


Kiss the Devil

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Harry Potter, Dark, Dark Tom, Dom Tom, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Humor, M/M, Or Is It?, Panic Attacks, Suspense, Switch Draco, Violence, serial killer Lord Voldemort, stoner Harry Ron and Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving an attack and killing notorious serial killer Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter suffers from massive panic attacks and develops a severe case of agoraphobia in the process. Needing to leave the Dursley's home on his aunt and uncle's insistance, Draco, Harry's not so loyal boyfriend is gifted a penthouse flat in downtown London for them to live in together. Unknown to Harry, Draco is being blackmailed into sexual relations with his boss, Tom Riddle, in exchange to keep the partnership he granted him. But Tom's true intentions to get close with the handsome blond are nefarious and the best way to get close to his true target, the only one he failed to kill during his last murder spree; Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry Potter and the Crippling Case of Agoraphobia

The vast expanse of room inside the tidiest and most thoughtfully decorated, as well as the largest office on the thirteenth floor surprised the man who was sitting inside of it, and his parents were billionaires. Having gotten the amazing promotion he had always dreamed of, the man shivered from the butterflies dancing around in his stomach. That is until he looked down at his desk. Shifting in his chair to look over the stacks of paperwork he needed to catch up on, Draco Malfoy heaved in a deep breath and released it slowly.

The image of paperwork began to flit away as the evenings during the past Fridays over the last year flooded back into his mind; the reason he had gotten the promotion in the first place. A silly smile curled up on his lips just daydreaming about how amazing the new man in his life was in bed. And although he felt terrible about cheating on his boyfriend, he didn’t really have much choice in the matter. He just went with it, thoroughly enjoying that tail on the side as long as the boyfriend didn’t find out. And that was very unlikely to happen, at least that’s what he assumed.

“I need that binder completed by five.”

Draco’s eyes snapped open. He whirled around in his high-backed chair to face the man standing in the doorway. Riddle. “Pardon me, sir?” he asked, already forgetting what the man had said. “Sorry, I was…uh, lost in thought.”

“It happens.” A tall, dark and handsome middle-aged man had gripped the door frame and leaned into Draco’s enormous office. His dark eyes scanned the length of Draco’s body when the man stood up from his chair to walk around his desk and properly greet his boss. “I said that I have a meeting today at five and I’ll be needing the binder there marked ‘finish by the end of the day’ finished by the end of the day, or I’m _fucked_.” He emphasised the last word intimately as his eyes rose up to meet with Draco’s. He took the young man’s hand in his and yanked him into his embrace. “And if I’m fucked - well then certainly you’re _fucked_.”

“…fuck. Yeah, fucked.” Draco melted against him. His long fingers found themselves tangled in Riddle’s inky-black hair. “We can’t have that, can we, sir? You - getting fucked…then I - get fucked. Who knows how hard that would be to handle,” he replied dreamily, as if staring into his boss’s lovely eyes had enchanted the newest member of the marketing company’s elite few. Admittedly, Draco was very attracted to the gorgeous executive despite owing him sexual favours until his hazing phase was complete. He had hoped beyond hope that if he ever was chosen to join the elite’s ranks that Tom would be one to take him under his wing. It came with a price, of course. No one could just get a promotion in one of the largest firms in Great Britain. One had to be very talented and have a million ideas…and you had to be nominated by one of the already-elite to even be considered for the position.

That’s where Tom Riddle came in. The tall beauty swished his tongue across the row of perfect pearly white top teeth filling his mouth. There was no mistaking the innuendo he was spouting; it was Friday after all, and Fridays were spent doing whatever Mr Riddle wanted Draco to do - within reason, that is.

Tom pressed the pad of his index finger on Draco’s lips. “I want you to shave for me…” His finger slipped to Draco’s chin, and trailed down along his chest until he stopped at the buckle of the man’s trousers. “Clean, smooth…all of it.”

“You mean…” Draco cringed. The mood suddenly shifted to something a bit less than sexy. Shave off his body hair? How on Earth would he be able to explain this to-

“Eight o’clock. Don’t be late. Oh, and get that binder ready for me by five…or I’ll really fuck you.” Riddle left Draco standing there with his mouth hung open.

The mobile phone in his pocket began to sing, causing him to jump. Justin Timberlake’s _“Cry me a River”_ filled the immediate area. Draco cringed as he groped through his pocket to answer the phone. The song was set by his secret significant other, a young man around the same age as he, a man he had known during their time spent together in a private secondary school.

“Hello, honey.” Draco closed his office door and slumped back into his chair as he listened to the sweetly soft sounds of his boyfriend speak to him while trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “Honestly, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Can’t you go into the bathroom and run some water? Are they close?”

-

On the other end of the line, the other young man was sitting cross-legged inside of a cupboard under the stairs, straining to speak without actually making any noise. Lord knows that his cousin Dudley most likely had his ear pressed flat against the door in an attempt to prove to his mother and father that his orphaned cousin was much more than just a mentally unstable young man who also happened to be very famous. Despite the constant protests, Dudley knew it was all an act. Harry Potter scrunched down near the floor while he cupped a hand over the receiver to muffle anything audible. “I said, ‘Can we see each other tonight?’.”

Long, coltish legs were bent up and swaying in the air as much as they could move in the cramped storage space. Harry was now lying on his stomach, with his head tucked into his chest to further shelter the mobile. A series of pounding on the cupboard door jolted him. He slapped the mobile closed and curled up on his side while he grabbed an ancient comic book he was going to pretend to be reading as Dudley pried open the door. Left there years back, during his time that he called the space “the only place Dudley couldn’t fit into”, the comic book’s innards flooded Harry’s head with memories of the past. It reminded him of Draco, his gorgeous secret boyfriend who just so happened to be practically perfect in every single way possible.

He tossed the Thor comic and grabbed up his ringing mobile as the door flung open and Dudley snagged an ankle to drag him out into the open. Both he and Dudley were twenty-two years old, and both should have been out of the Dursley house and on their own by now, but that just wasn’t in the cards for either of them at that particular time.

-

Draco cringed. “Err, tonight? I can’t tonight-Harry? Harry, are you still there?”

The line went silent so he dialled him back, then the sounds of protest and shuffling came through the receiver. Draco turned up the volume on his mobile and listened intently.

“Check his mobile! He’s either chatting with his boyfriend or his drug dealer, mummy! B O Y friend, mum, or D R U G dealer. He’s a right addict and a ponce, I tell you!”

“A boyfriend, drugs…me? That’s ridiculous. Aunt Petunia, please tell him to let me go. My therapist is on the line! He can hear him!” Harry put the mobile back up to his ear. “What was that, Dr Dumbledore? I should stay living here with my aunt and uncle where it’s safe?”

Petunia gasped. “Dumbledore? Dudley, let him go!” Lord knew she did not want Harry staying in their home any longer than he had to. She had been working very hard with Draco’s mother to get the boys their own place together, a place where she wouldn’t have to listen to her son’s ever accusing jibes about her nephew’s sexuality or drug use. “Please reassure your therapist all is well here, and you’re still very capable of moving out to your own place.”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, we’ll see.”

Petunia surreptitiously pinched her son as hard as she could while staring him down, daring him to cry out in pain. If she didn’t get Harry out of the house soon, Vernon and Marge had threatened to move out in his place.

* * *

Draco dragged himself to Riddle’s office. As of yet, he had kept every date they had scheduled. He was always prompt, always dressed exactly as he had been instructed to be and did everything his boss asked of him. He was not proud of this, but he knew what was expected when he took this position in this firm. Everyone paid their dues to whoever got you on the inside, got you the job of your dreams. Neither Harry nor he would want for anything. They would live like kings once he was released from Riddle’s possession, and that would be sooner rather than later. He’d been serving Riddle for nearly a year now, and Riddle assured him that the men or women at the top almost always released their minions from sexual-slave duty after around a year or so…if they were good at pleasing them, if they did everything that they were told. That was what made this walk so daunting. Draco needed to cancel Tom’s and his date that night because his boyfriend needed him.

“Hey, Tom? Uh, we need to talk about tonight.” Draco dropped the binder he’d completed for his boss on the man’s desk. He waited for Tom to finish the call he was on before he told him the bad news.

Riddle clicked the flashing red button on his telephone and set the receiver on its cradle. He leaned forward over his desk to give the beautiful blond his undivided attention. “Yes, darling? Something you want to say?”

“Yeah, err…” Draco mumbled while he shuffled his weight around. “I’m sorry. I can’t make it tonight. Maybe I can make it up to you on Saturday, or I suppose I could stay the whole night with you next Friday or something. I’ll make this up to you, I swear-”

“What?” Tom interrupted, feigning sadness and concern. “Skipping out on me tonight? I thought we had a thing…Why?”

“God, it’s not you…” Draco focused his attention on the floor. “I have a…I mean, I have this…this other man, uh…my, well, he’s sort of a boy…a friend. Err, boyfriend. I have a boyfriend, his name is Harry. And he’s all messed up in the head and he really needs me tonight. I’m sorry, Tom.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Tom pretended like he had no idea Draco was seeing someone else. “I had no idea. Draco, if what we’re doing has gotten between you two…”

“No, Tom, he has no clue about us,” Draco blurted before catching himself. He dug his fingernails into his thigh, wishing he could please both Tom and Harry at the same time. As much as he loved, was madly in love with Harry, well, he was very flaky and there was the fact that he was nutters. And Tom, while classically narcissistic and sometimes slightly creepy in a “I can’t quite put my finger on it” way, was the most intelligent and sexiest man he had ever met. Just listening to Tom talk about himself all night felt amazing after great sex. “Normally, Fridays are free for me. You see…Err, Harry, my boyfriend, well he knows I like to hit the pubs and hang out with my friends on Fridays, and he’s fine with that because…well, he has this condition. He’s afraid of…he can’t go-”

“Say no more,” Tom said, cutting him off. “He sounds like a nice guy. If he really needs you tonight I won’t stop you from going to him. Honestly, it’s no big deal. We’ll see each other next week.” He clapped the blond on the shoulder as he ushered him out of his office. He stopped the young man briefly, curious about his boyfriend’s surname. “What was his name again? Harry…”

“Potter,” Draco volunteered, unthinking as he prayed to himself that Tom wasn’t just giving him the brush-off before he sacked him. He stopped and turned back to Tom, now willing to blow Harry off for a few hours in order to appease his new boss. “Look, I can see him later. His awful relatives, those Dursley people…they fucking hate me anyway.”

“Draco, I’m fine with this. If he truly needs you - then you need to go. Take care of him. He’s a very lucky man to have you.”

Tom pushed Draco out of his office and locked the door. He dropped into his high-back chair and tore the binder Draco had finished for him into a million pieces. He threw several awards he had received over the years for stellar performances against the wall, shattering glass windows and putting gaping holes in the plaster. He covered his face in his hands as he hysterically began to cry. He sobbed for nearly ten minutes, until the sobbing turned into laughter. He knew goddamn well who Draco Malfoy was screwing, that was the whole reason he hired, promoted and took Draco on as a lover, fooling the poor sod into thinking he had to do this in the first place.

* * *

Dudley dragged Harry to the front door, threatening to chuck him out on his arse again. This struggle always happened when Vernon and Petunia weren’t home. “Stop it, Dudley! I swear if you push me any closer I’ll tell the authorities that you’re sneaking out at night and they’ll put you right back in jail!”

Being held under strict 24-hour home curfew until the trial began, Dudley took the threat very seriously. He was in a helluva lot of trouble, being charged with domestic terrorism after setting off several m-80 explosives inside a public library toilet. He dropped his smaller cousin on the floor and walked away, grumbling about Harry being a ruddy spoil-sport.

Harry slowly crab-walked away from the door. His delicate psychological condition did not permit him such luxuries as walking through one or being near one. A loud knock upon it sent Harry into a tizzy. He panicked and scrambled to back away, but Dudley had returned, hefted him up and slung him over his shoulder before opening it. “Yes, come in, I have your little ponce right here, Lord Volde- Oh, it’s just you…his other lover.” Again, the large, muscular young man dropped Harry back on the floor so he could return to looking at gratuitous pornography in his father’s den.

“Dudley, you stupid piece of shit!” Draco quickly shut and locked the door behind him before aiding Harry. “It’s okay, love, it’s just me.” He helped Harry stand and walked him toward the basement, the only place they could truly be alone together in the house. “Did you take your pills? How do you feel right now?”

“He fucking keeps saying his name. The nightmares have started back up. I can’t do this anymore. They might put me back in the asylum.” Harry curled into his boyfriend’s torso as they made their way down the steps. He gave Draco a little nod when asked again about taking his meds. “I’m okay. Just keep Dudley away from me.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Draco locked the basement door and quickly ran back down the steps to curl up next to Harry on his bed. He shucked off his clothing between bouts of fawning over his lover, keeping the young man from thinking about the reason why he had terrible panic attacks and had developed crippling agoraphobia, the worst of the plethora of mental disorders Harry had been burdened with.

* * *

It didn’t take much to find the address where Potter lived once Malfoy dropped the surname of Harry’s relatives. It seemed the young man had developed a condition that prevented him from being out in the open. And, as he discovered, the Daily Prophet seemed to have a major crush on him as well; there were constant articles about Harry, with details of the events that lead up to Potter’s home-bound status; that he had been the prime target of notorious serial killer Lord Voldemort, and had seemingly bested the indestructible man during his final and ill-fated attempt to murder the boy once and for all.

No one had ever found the body or learnt of the phantom’s true identity, but having murdered several other people before he got his clutches onto Potter, the proof of his existence was more than evident. Lord Voldemort was the Jack the Ripper of their time, and he was now gone. Or at least that’s what everyone hoped. By sheer coincidence Draco had taken a position with their marketing firm some years back, straight after graduation. Okay, maybe it took a few favours and loads of cash to get him transferred to the firm. Semantics.

But Tom knew what no one else could figure out. He knew the identity of the killer intimately, very intimately. Gnashing his teeth, Tom shoved away from his desk, full of elation. He stared at a recent photo of Potter on the Daily Prophet’s website; the boy who lived. “I finally found you again, my pet, my pretty thing. You thought you could hide…that old bastard thought he could hide you, keep you from me. Unfortunately for both of you this time you will not get away from me. You're mine, Harry Potter...all mine.”

* * *

A week went by. It was almost five, and Draco fretted in his seat. Tom was expecting him that night for their weekly date but he hadn’t told the man about his impending move. He had finally talked his boyfriend into moving out of his relatives’ home and into his flat, which had been gifted to him by his parents so he would finally move the hell out and take Harry with him, so the Dursleys could find some peace, too. Harry’s great fear of being out in the open for even a short amount of time was going to be a problem. It was a sensitive, delicate issue his mother and Harry’s aunt Petunia agreed to help him with - but it had to be tonight. Everything was rented for the move, dinner parties and social appearances had been shifted around in order for Narcissa and Petunia to get Lucius and Vernon to help them with all of the physical labour.

He hadn’t spoken to Tom as of yet, but he had seen him lurking around his office throughout the afternoon. The clock on the wall seemed to start spinning out of control, edging closer and closer to five o’clock. Sweat poured down his face, and the air around him grew hot and thin. He could hear footsteps growing louder, approaching his office. Draco dropped down over the desk, feeling dizzy and light-headed, understanding now what it felt like to have a panic attack like Harry did. A knock on his open door caused him to jump.

“Did I frighten you?” Tom grinned down at the handsome blond as he tried to hide his stress behind a forced smile.

“No, uhh…” He wanted to blurt it out, that he had to skip out again on their planned date filled with pleasing Tom so he wouldn’t sack him. “I’m fine. Err, how long are we going out for tonight? I hope we can skip the dinner and head straight to your place right after work, because I uh-”

“Because you _what?_ ” Tom asked him as he moved inside the office and locked the door behind him. “Having another crisis with your boyfriend? Anything I can do to help?”

Draco blinked. “Really? You’d help?” He stood up from his chair and moved around to lean back against his desk so he could speak face-to-face with his boss. “It’s just that we’re moving into a new place and the only time I can get the in-laws and my folks to help us out is tonight, because Harry…he, well, that. Er, believe me, I tried my best to make the move tomorrow but those bloody Dursleys-”

“Say no more.” Tom pressed an index finger over Draco’s lips to shut him up. “I’d be happy to help you with your move. In fact, let your parents have the evening off. I have loads of resources, I have a Rolodex full of people who owe me something.”

There was a look in Tom’s eye that startled Draco. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse the man’s kindness, but that was something he wouldn’t risk. He was already pushing the issue by skipping out on another date with the man, how could he turn this help down, too? “What about the Dursleys. Harry could hardly endure the move without them. He has agor-”

“Agoraphobia.” Tom finished for him. The handsome man acted concerned, showing Draco that he had empathy. “I’ve read about that, about him in the papers. He’s had a tough life.”

Draco swallowed hard. “Yeah. He’s had some trauma-”

“In the past. A serial killer, yes? They called him Lord Voldemort, right?”

Draco shushed him. “We don’t say that name around him,” he informed Tom.

“Wears a costume, I hear. A white mask and dark robes.” Tom resisted the urge to reach down into the front of his trousers to stroke himself. Just talking about his alter ego made him very hard. “Poor boy’s been put through the ringer, it sounds. However did he survive the ordeal?”

Tom pressed himself up against Draco, forcing him to lean back against the top of the desk. He needed desperately to expend himself, and he could not think of a better way could he do that than to empty himself all over Harry’s stupid little boyfriend, mostly while he fantasised about all the naughty little things he was going to get to do with Harry once he got him alone. Riddle pushed everything adorning the desk onto the floor and straddled the handsome blond, pinning the man down with his hands and knees. He kissed him, pressing their lips together, nudging Draco’s apart with his tongue.

Draco succumbed to Tom’s advances. He felt himself grow hard through each pressured thrust of Tom’s hips against his pelvis. “God,” he breathed. His trousers and pants came off easily. The soft warmth of Tom’s full lips slid down the length of Draco’s cock. “Ah, fuck.”

After a minute, Tom propped his face up with his fists. “He sounds like a right handful. I could help you with that.”

“Huh?” Draco sat forward a bit but Tom shoved him back down and enveloped his hardness again. Draco relaxed back against the desk top, lost in the bliss.

“He have a therapist?” Tom slipped a middle finger inside of Draco to keep him compliant. He fingered him, ever so gently teasing the side of his prostate while he sucked and jerked him off.

"Dr Dumbledore, yeah. He's a great help."

"Dumbledore..." Tom tore the flesh away from the back of his own thigh just hearing that name, knowing he was the one hiding his beloved victim from him. "I've heard of him. Very intelligent, very wise...gifted."

"I suppose. He helps Harry get through his issues. And he has loads of issues." Draco was oblivious to Tom's brief shift of emotion. “He’s pretty-much totally fucked in the head,” Draco managed to sputter out between heavy breathing. “Probably the only reason why I’m his boyfriend to begin with. He…ah, fuck, he’s so fucking mental, takes loads of pills and sees things that aren’t there all the time. And the booze, all the drugs. God, don’t stop.”

“That’s interesting information to have at my disposal.” Before Draco absorbed what he said, Tom shimmied out of his own trousers and got to his knees to align himself with Draco. “Shh,” he said, to keep the man compliant as he eased his cock inside of him while he held him steady by the crooks of his knees. His head lolled back at the wondrous sensation. Draco was…the best lay he ever had. The man was a formidable top but bottomed for Tom like a pro on call. Lean and pretty, Draco made a fantastic lover, someone Tom wished he could have on a more permanent basis. But with he and Harry being smitten with one another, Tom was, quite frankly, shit out of luck. “What kind of drugs does he do?”

“God, err, mainly pot, some pills, uh downers mostly, and he’ll drink anything you give him. He’s got these two friends from school…fucking stoner twins that indulge this shit. I can’t get him to stop, but, to be honest, it makes being with him a lot easier.”

This fascination with the blond and his boy-toy Potter curled Tom’s toes each and every time he thought about it. He could not wait until the moment was right and he could bathe in their blood and bark at the moon.

* * *

Hermione Granger glared openly at Draco as he and Tom entered the Dursley home. Draco pointed at her and sneered. “Stand down, Medusa.” He nudged Tom to follow him and ignore the young woman and her angry-looking boyfriend. “She’s a bloody commoner like the Dursleys here. She somehow wormed her way into getting Weasley there to date her, although I don’t know why she’d waste the energy trying to snag a noble of his calibre; Weasleys got no money.” He did not lower his voice as he spoke about them.

“Why are they even allowed in here?” Tom asked him as Draco led the man through the kitchen to the door leading to the basement.

Draco acted equally offended by their presence. “Harry’s friends, the stoner twins I told you about. They’re here to help him move from point A to point B without the need for a straight-jacket or horse tranquilisers. Our job is to move everything else.”

“A pity,” Tom murmured as he let his gaze drift from Hermione over to the young man sitting in the kitchen nook with his aunt and Draco’s mother, both of whom were patting his hands and shoulders while they quietly spoke with him. Harry. It was Harry, he was sure of it. He was larger then he remembered him to be, most likely fully grown by now. His hair was longer, messier, his posture hunched and inverted. Tom inhaled the air, hoping to catch a hint of remembrance or fear lingering in it. He felt himself pivot, intent on moving in closer - but Draco righted him and shoved him toward the basement steps.

Harry looked over his shoulder, catching the back of Tom’s head as he descended the staircase. He shifted in his chair to get a better look but the man was out of sight. “Who was that?” he asked his aunt and Narcissa. Both women shrugged. “He was tall…tall like-was he tall?”

“Stop it, Harry.” Petunia dug through her pockets on her apron, brought a bottle of pills out and set it on the table. She jerked her head toward the kitchen sink. Narcissa took the hint and sprung into action. She filled a glass with water and gave it to Harry while Petunia handed him a few pills she shook out into her hand.

Harry took them and a deep breath. “I’m sorry, just nervous about the move. I know, I know…” He patted both Petunia’s and Narcissa’s hands to reassure them. “It’s all in my head. Everything’s fine. This move will go smoothly and Draco will keep me safe and sound. I’ve got this.”

Hermione and Ron came up behind him. Hermione gave his shoulders a squeeze. “We’ve got this. Everything’s peaches.”

“That’s right,” Ron added, smiling at the women. “Peaches.”

* * *

Hermione passed Harry the blunt they were sharing as she exhaled the smoke trapped in her throat. Harry took a long hit. He let the milky smoke purl through his lips like a ghost before sucking it into his lungs. There was a sexiness about smoking with Harry; smoking, drinking, snorting pills, doing lines of whatever shit he concocted in Dumbledore’s assistant’s chemical stores. Hermione adored getting wasted with her other best friend. That, and thinking about Harry whenever she and Ron had sex.

“Fuck, gimme dat,” Ron begged, exchanging the blunt for a bottle of alcohol.

Harry fell back against the sofa cushions and took a swig of cherry wine. “I think Draco might be cheating on me.”

“Dump his ass!” Hermione hissed without missing a beat.

“Move in with us, idiot!” Ron said at the same moment as Hermione.

“What is that smell again?!” Petunia shouted from the top of the stairs on the second floor.

Dudley audibly huffed as he stepped into the living room from the kitchen. “Drugs, mum! I tell you this every time you ask! Harry’s doing drugs in here again! And he’s gay. He lets Draco bugger him in the basement.”

Ron shot Dudley in the face with disinfectant spray, causing him to sputter and choke. “Shut the hell up, snitch.”

“Mind your business, Dudley, I already told you no one cares if he’s gay…except you and Vernon. And Lucius. And maybe Aunt Marge, but I think that’s because she just doesn’t care for him in general,” Petunia reminded him. “And Harry, stop doing the marijuana inside the house. You know Vernon will throw a fit when he gets home.”

“Yeah, but I won’t be here when he gets home today. He can stuff it up his fat arse.”

Hermione gaped at Harry. “ _Doing the marijuana?_   What century is she from?”

Harry switched the wine for the weed and took another hit, unable to hear Dudley’s whimpering as he crawled back into the kitchen. He shook his head, staving off his two best friends, who would never be doing anything like this if not for him. “I get you two in enough trouble as is. I can only imagine how much the Weasleys and Grangers hate my fucking guts.” He pouted while he stared longingly at the blunt trapped between his fingers. “Going to miss this. My dealer won’t sell where we’re moving to. Too far away, always fuzz around. But I reckon the drugs’ll be better in such a wealthy area in London.”

“We were talking about Malfoy, not the pot, Harry. What makes you think he’s cheating on you?” Hermione reminded him.

Harry’s eyes swivelled up and to the side. His tongue swished along his top lip as he recalled all the reasons that gave him suspicion. “Well, for one, his mobile battery is almost always dead on Friday nights, which just so happens to be the only night he doesn’t kip over with me here. If I call him past six he won’t answer, and “claims” his battery died every. Bloody. Friday.”

Ron gave Harry an odd look but Hermione’s head began to sway with agreement. “That’s a big one. What else?”

“Maybe he just wants a night off,” Ron interjected, but Hermione sneered at him to shut him up.

“Go on, Harry,” she compelled him.

Harry passed the blunt to Ron and exhaled the cloudy white smoke from his lungs to exchange it with fresh oxygen. “There’s that time I dialled the number he has saved on his mobile with no name attached to it and some bloke answered and promptly hung up on me when I asked him why his number was in my boyfriend’s contacts. Oh, not to mention how freaked out Draco got when he found out I was going through his contact list in the first place. He’s got the mobile password protected now.”

“Ooh.” Hermione’s eyes were as large as saucers.

“You go through his mobile, mate?” Ron asked, looking slightly green around the gills. Hermione took the wine bottle from him. “Not cool. Sometimes a bloke needs his space.” His eyes flicked to Hermione for one brief moment. “There’s nothing wrong with password protecting your mobile.”

“God, Ron, if I even pick his mobile up he flips the fuck out. I mean honestly, what else could that mean?” Harry asked, and exchanged the weed with the bottle in Hermione’s lap. “Oh, and one more thing.” Harry leaned up against Hermione to whisper in her ear. “We were all hot-n-heavy last night after packing up all our stuff. He’s developed new…uh…kinks in bed we’ve never tried before, and when I got his knickers off before he got the blindfold on-” Harry said, clenching his jaw. He threw a hand up in exasperation, “I saw it - he was completely shaved. Like a bloody child from the neck down.”

Hermione gasped, long and hard.

Ron leaned in, having not heard what Harry told her. “What’s up?”

“He said he did it for me. That’s complete shite. I’ve never asked him to do anything remotely close to that,” Harry added.

Ron blinked. “What’d he do?”

Hermione smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “He cheated on Harry, that’s what.”

_“Having a good time? We’re nearly finished moving your stuff into the lorry, love.”_

Harry and Hermione both jumped. All three looked up from the sofa at Draco, who was leaning up against the door frame from the kitchen. Draco’s friend left through the front door carrying a large stack of boxes, which happened to shield his face from Harry’s view.

“Thats the last of it,” Draco added, gesturing to Tom as he left the home. “You ready to hit the road?”

“Speaking of hitting things-hitting anything new, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, but Harry elbowed her.

He held up the wine bottle after shutting his friend up. “Almost ready. Waiting on the pills Aunt Petunia gave me to kick in then I’m set.”

Draco screwed up the side of his face. He was really disappointed in Harry’s friends for not only condoning this recent spike in drug-use, but joining Harry in it. “Pills, and I see you’re smoking pot, _and drinking_. Wow. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“I could ask you the same thing, you wanker. Don’t you think Harry is enough?” Hermione asked him in return. “Perhaps he’s compensating with drugs and wine for what he’s not getting from you.”

“What’s she on about?” Draco asked, feigning ignorance.

“Shut it. Don’t fuck this up for me, I need him,” Harry whispered before handing the girl the bottle. He stood up and wavered for a moment, but levelled himself out and declared, “I’m good. Let’s go.”

Draco kept a sneer on Hermione as he huddled Harry into his embrace to lead him out of the house to his auto.

Hermione gave him the two-finger salute and mouthed the words, “Get bent, you tosser,” in return.

“Charming, your girlfriend,” Draco said to Ron as they both eased Harry out the door. “Got a real imagination on her, too.”

“Look, mate,” Ron told him. He cupped his hands over Harry’s ears, although he was pretty sure Harry could not hear anything other than his rapidly beating heart at this point. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy as they got to the car. “I was defending you in there. But if you are doing what she’s insinuating and you hurt him in any way, I will shove your face up your own arse.” He showed him in gesture how he’d do it, and Draco believed him, and shut his mouth.

* * *

Draco looked up in the rear-view mirror at Harry fidgeting around in the back seat. Hermione was so obviously smitten with him it made the man want to vomit. Her hands were all over him; petting his hair, soothing his worry away with massage while whispering in his ear to keep him pliant. She kept forcing the man’s head on her shoulder, and sometimes against her chest in attempt to keep him from looking out the windows of the auto they were travelling together in. Ron was sitting next to Draco in the front. He kept changing the dial on the radio, never once finding a song that he could stomach. Draco just wanted to chuck them both out on principle. They were useless wastes of space that took up too much of Harry’s time and energy. Living together would surely rid them of these two.

“Who was that bloke you had with you, Malfoy?” Hermione asked him, spotting him watching her through the mirror. “Handsome, older bloke, yeah? You like em older?”

Draco nudged Ron. “Has she always had a crush on Harry, or does it just surface when she’s wasted?”

Both Harry and Hermione froze and gasped. “Shut up, Draco,” Harry hissed.

“What you on about, mate?” Ron asked the blond.

“I do not have a crush on Harry,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. Undeterred, she asked him again. “Who was your friend, Malfoy. Why didn’t you introduce him to Harry? Hm?”

“You mean my boss, Granger?” Draco’s lip curled up on one side. “It just so happens I mentioned that I needed to help my _boyfriend_ move into our new flat,” he said, emphasising the word ‘boyfriend’ in such a way as to humble her for openly hitting on Harry in his bloody car and let her know that his boss was well aware he and Harry were an item. “He offered to help out and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. What was I supposed to do?”

“Will he not take ‘no’ for an answer to other things, too?” Hermione responded, adding, “You know, like shaving your body-hair off maybe?”

Harry began to hyperventilate. Hermione held a bag up to his face and rubbed his back, never once taking her eyes off of Draco through the rear-view mirror. She noted the pink flush that appeared on his normally pallid face and smiled. Checkmate. “Cheater.”

The rest of the drive was in silence. Draco couldn’t risk letting that know-it-all get the better of him again in Harry’s presence. The young man was already a bundle of nerves and would most-likely not sleep that night out of sheer anxiety.

By the time they arrived at the nine-story building things began to tighten, but not in a good way. Getting Harry to the new flat was the easy part, despite the awkward tension between Draco and Hermione throughout the drive. Now, they had to figure out a way to get the young man out of the auto and inside the building. Draco pulled up to the front. Harry looked out the window. “What is this place?” He looked at Draco. “Is this it? We’re living here?”

“Up top, in the penthouse, darling. We got the whole top floor to ourselves.” Draco could see sweat beading on Harry’s forehead and his hands shaking, could hear his breath-take increase. Harry gulped for air but found no comfort. “Relax, love.” Draco got out and ran around to the back of the auto to help Hermione calm Harry down before he flew into a full-on panic attack. He was hyperventilating again while screaming at Draco to close the door. Draco wrestled him into his embrace to take control from him. “This is where we’re living. I showed you photos of the inside, sweet heart. Don’t you remember?” He groped for his mobile. “Look, I’ll show you again.”

On the other side of the car park, Tom watched the exchange through a pair of binoculars he was holding up to his face. The other hand was on his erection, stroking it up and down, increasing the pace as Harry’s anxiety burgeoned. The more the young man got upset the closer Tom came to orgasm. An elderly couple walked up beside the lorry he was masturbating in. The woman fiddled around in her handbag for her keys. Tom felt the stare from both of them burning through his flesh. “The fuck are you looking at?! Piss off, granny!” he shouted, causing both of them to scramble to get into their auto and drive away. He returned his attention back to Harry. “Jesus Christ, can’t a bloke rub one out without an audience anymore? Fucking nuisances.”

Taking the lift was not an option as Draco quickly learnt.

“What if…You-Know-Who…in the lift.” Harry trembled without any control over it. “Too small, no way to escape. Can’t breathe inside, Draco.”

The stairwell also posed a problem. Draco found himself carrying Harry up the stairs from the second floor after the poor sod passed out from fright, anxiety, and the myriad of other disorders he had. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron helped carry him up. “What a bloody nightmare,” Ron remarked, holding Harry up in his arms while Draco fumbled around in his pockets to find the set of keys to the new flat.

“We smoking to celebrate, right? Harry’ll need something,” Hermione informed the blond as he unlocked and opened the door. She wagged her stash in his face. “You gonna be cool for once in your life, Malfoy?”

“Inside here? No,” Draco informed her. He pointed across the spacious living area they stepped into. “That’s what the balcony is for.”

“Ha,” Ron emitted. “You’re not getting Harry out there.”

Draco hadn’t thought of that, that Harry might be afraid of balconies. “Put him on the sofa,” he told Ron. He turned toward Hermione. “Should I, like, close all the drapes or leave them open?”

“Depends,” she said, still holding her stash in case Draco changed his mind. “You want him to continue to panic, or do you want there to be a chance he’ll level out some tonight?” She wagged the bag at him one more time, just in case.

Draco rolled his eyes. “No way, charity-case. I get randomly drug-tested at work. If I lose my job we’re fucking-well moving in with you two.” He grabbed and tossed the bag across the room, and clucked his tongue at her, still very disappointed at her life-choices since graduation. “Weren’t you like the bloody head-girl in our class? What the fuck happened to you, scholarship-girl?”

Hermione elbowed Ron. “He’s calling me names again.”

Harry rubbed his face as he sat up on the sofa. Draco moved past the two former classmates and joined him. “How you feeling, love? You up for the tour? Wanna see where you and I are gonna…” he whispered in the young man’s ear while gesticulating something vulgar with his fingers. “Yeah?”

“Hey,” Ron half-heartedly uttered in Draco’s direction. “Remember what I said about your face. We’re gonna go.” He shrugged and walked to the door.

Hermione retrieved her baggie and followed him. “If you need a place to stay after the fight, Harry, gimme a call.” She made a little telephone sign with her hand while she tossed as sneer back at Draco.

“What fight?” Draco spouted, gaping at the duo as they left the flat. “Fuck off already.”

“Did you choose a place with so many windows on purpose?” Harry asked him while clutching his arm with all of his strength. “It’s so open. Anyone can see inside. What if Lord Volde…Can’t breathe.” He began using his breathing exercises that Dr Dumbledore taught him to calm himself.

“He is dead.” Draco could feel his lover trembling. He clicked a remote control resting on the arm of the sofa to calm Harry’s nerves. He locked the door after Ron and Hermione left while the drapes closed over the windows mechanically.

The white room darkened down, giving Harry a sense of ease. His eyes now opened to the place he and Draco would be calling ‘home’. The living room was fused with the dining room, housing two modern-looking sofas facing the other in camel as well as an abstract dining table that seated eight. A zebra-skin rug sat on the floor beneath a stone coffee table separating the sofas.

Harry stared intently at it for a while. “That’s not real, is it?”

A light click-sound caught the blond’s attention. “Shh.” Draco paused, silencing Harry. Something shuffled outside of the flat in the hallway. He got up and moved to the front door and listened against the thick wood and peeked out through the peephole. He finally shrugged, hearing nothing further. “I could have sworn I heard…I mean, no, the rug’s not real.”

The rug was real.

“You could have sworn you heard what?” Harry asked him. “Did you hear someone out there?”

Draco grabbed a bottle of white wine from the bar next to the dining table and thrust it into Harry’s lap. “Did you say you needed a drink? Let me find a corkscrew.”

“I definitely need a drink,” Harry murmured, looking between the door and the bottle.

Draco exchanged the bottle in Harry’s hand for an empty wineglass. He uncorked the bottle and poured his lover some wine. “I wanna christen our bedroom. I need to work off all this pent up frustration after spending the day with the stoner twins…you know, Hermione Granger, that sodding know-it-all.”

“Do I get to come this time?” Harry arched an eyebrow while he sipped his wine.

“Oh darling, of course. In fact, I’m gonna make you come first,” Draco promised as he dropped to his knees in front of him. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You won’t be sorry, AND!” he shouted, thrusting a finger in the air as if he had just invented electricity, “you don’t have to lift a finger. I’ll be doing all the work.”

“Translation: I’ll be completely tied up while you jerk off in my face. Am I right?” Harry took a huge sip of wine, emptying his glass. Draco’s tastes in sex had recently changed…for the worse for Harry. Before the blond could respond, Harry shoved the glass in his hand. “Another?”

“Er…maybe something like that-is that a problem? I mean, if you maybe want to try some other way, Harry, I won’t…” Draco trailed off as he refilled Harry’s glass of wine and coaxed him to drink it. Hell yes he was going to make the man suffer a little. First off, he had to endure Tom’s utter dominance every single Friday, and tolerate Harry’s quirky mental issues while being forced to hang out with his nerdy friends while they got wasted every fucking day. Fuck yes Harry was getting tied up, gagged, spanked and have every bloody inch of his body splattered with his jizz. “It’ll be fun. If you had a better suggestion, though, if you want…” Draco gave him the puppy eyes, that always worked on Harry.

“Nah, that’s fine. We’ll do whatever you want to do,” Harry said, accepting the refill. He drank it post haste. “Just tell me what kind of noises you need me to make in order to get you off. Can you fill this again, please?”

“The helpless damsel noises always work the best.” Draco had a very ‘give-and-take’ relationship with Harry; he gave Harry whatever morally-questionable substance he desired to keep him high in exchange for whatever deviant act he wanted to perform on the pretty boy so he could endure the humiliation he suffered from Tom. “More wine? Or would you prefer stronger. Gin?” Draco had placed a bottle of Tanqueray and a litre of 7 Up by the corner of the sofa for easy access after his latest trip to the bar.

“I fucking hate gin,” Harry announced.

“Do you, though?” Draco asked him in sincerity. He climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Harry blinked up at him. “Don’t I?”

“No,” Draco informed him, and poured the man a glass and put it in Harry’s hand. “You drink whatever I give you.”

“Oh…alright. Is this gin?” Harry took a dainty sip, swished it around in his mouth and then swallowed it.

Draco smiled. “It is.”

“It’s not half bad. I thought I hated gin…”

“Drink your gin so I can…you know…” Draco began undressing, so eager to start having sex in every single room of the flat. “Drink, darling.”

“Okay, sure.” Harry guzzled his glass and held it out for another. The idea of blacking out that evening felt very right. “Whatever you want to do to me is fine, so long as I don’t remember the humiliating parts in the morning.”

Draco shrugged. “You won’t.”

* * *

 


	2. Sealing Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco grows tired of Tom's sadistic ways, while Harry grows tired of Draco. Unwilling to stay in the relationship any longer when Draco leaves him alone on Friday nights one too many times, Tom easily swoops in to take his place.

Harry looked around the dark space he had been forced into. Bound, he waited for the man who had done this to him make his entrance. Trapped, cold, hungry, alone…he gritted his teeth, enduring the torture, the long unnecessary torture. He jerked at his restraints to test their strength. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “Dammit,” he whispered, frustrated but cautious as not to anger his captor. The man didn’t care much for complaining. The wait was agonising. A chill seeped through his bare skin. He closed his eyes and lowered his head in wait for the inevitable. 

Artificial light filled the room as the only way in or out burst open. Harry looked up to see a silhouette of a statuesque form standing in front of him. “They kick in yet?” 

“…yep.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m good. Lets do this. My hands fell asleep ages ago.” 

Draco shut the dressing room door behind him and dropped to his knees in front of Harry. “I should make you jerk yourself off if your hands are asleep. They call that “The Stranger”.” 

“Who calls it that?” Harry asked. 

“People,” Draco replied in a tetchy manner. “I dunno, I heard it somewhere. School maybe. Shut up.” He pressed a piece of duct tape over Harry’s mouth, but didn’t press too hard. He gauged every foul thing he did to his lover by watching his reaction to whatever he was doing. Any hint of panic or fear discontinued whatever action he inflicting on him. Harry did not like giving up full control of Draco’s thriving need to take out his frustrations on him. 

As the tape was applied, Harry merely winced for a second and scrunched up his face at the application. “Is that okay? You good?” 

Harry gave him a positive nod of the head. 

Draco grinned. “Good, good. Alright, lie down on your back, gonna get you off now. You’re gonna love this.” 

With each wrist affixed with rope to its matching thigh, Harry had absolutely no idea as to how he was supposed to lie down without being able to brace himself. He’d been sitting on his knees inside the dressing room for a while. He glanced down at the dried candle wax droplets littering his chest and stomach, wondering whether his parents were looking down at him from the heavens wearing masks of disappointment for their only child. He teetered to his side, hoping the carpet would cushion his fall but Draco took him by the arms and eased him back instead. 

After squirting a rather large amount of baby oil all over Harry’s lower torso area, Draco got down on an elbow and slipped his fingers up the length of Harry’s cock. 

Having consumed 30 mg of Vicodin in which he chased with a pint of vodka, Harry could barely feel a thing. If anything, it helped him to endure Draco’s latest spike of sadism. He wanted to please his lover so badly, but something stepped in the way. Draco would be furious. He groaned out especially loud, letting the blond know he had an issue that needed to be dealt with. 

“Damn,” Draco hissed under his breath. He was so hoping to loosen up through this experience in order to endure the impending date with Tom that night. He only had a small window of time between work and the date but it seemed that Harry was not going to comply. He sat upright and pulled the tape away from his mouth. “What?” 

“Room’s spinning.” 

“Goddammit, Harry.” Draco glared down at him while he untied him. He helped him sit up and pull his briefs up. “Don’t take those pills anymore. They turn my mum into a zombie.” 

Harry rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. “It’s alright, this is the last time. Found a new dealer who delivers. He’s dropping me off a stash of weed tonight.” He shrugged. “Oh, by the way, I need five hundred quid.” 

The blond’s mouth dropped open. “Five hundred?” 

“I also need to be on the bed…and I’m gonna need a bucket. Like, right now.” 

Draco grabbed Harry up. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry.” 

“I just need a nap till this levels out.” 

Harry climbed over to the centre of the bed and let Draco cover him up with a cool sheet. The blond grabbed the waste bin beside the night table and cradled Harry’s head in his lap. He kept him comfortable while the man retched into the bin several times. He petted Harry a long while until he fell asleep. A glance at the alarm clock told him he needed to get a move on if he wanted to make his date in time. He didn’t want to, actually, but he had to. He kissed Harry on the cheek before he left. “I love you, you big lush.” 

Harry made a strangled sound while he thrust a thumb in the air, his only effective form of communication he had control of at that time.

* * *

Tom carelessly applied a large amount of lip balm on his full lips while he sat on top of Draco, who had been strapped to the bed spread eagle on his stomach. Tom began bouncing with excitement, thinking about the near future. He leaned down and pulled the ball out of Draco’s mouth so he could speak. “So, how did the move go? You’ve been in the new place for what now, a month? Your boyfriend adjusting to the flat? It’s gorgeous, by the way. Must have cost a fortune.” 

Draco struggled to reply through the bouncing. The air in his lungs kept getting pushed out through each downward movement Tom caused. “Thanks. It…was a gift…from my mum and dad.” 

Tom stopped bouncing. “And Harry? How’s he like it?” 

“He loves it, mostly. It’s taking time for him to adjust to the changes. He’s been having a lot of flashbacks that have caused him loads of anxiety, but the pills seem to help.” That, and the gin, and the pot, the sleeping pills, and whatever else he could inhale or ingest that was housed under the kitchen sink…etcetera, etcetera. 

Tom latched his teeth onto Draco’s earlobe. He reached back behind him to grope the man’s arse at the same time. “So fucking hot, Draco. So, what bedroom do you two sleep in?” 

Draco looked up. “Huh?” 

“I noticed the flat had three bedrooms in it when I dropped your things off when I helped you move Harry in. And all of them were furnished. I was just wondering which one you chose as your boudoir.” 

“Oh, uh, the master bedroom, the one with the windows looking out over the city and the Thames. It’s got a huge dressing room attached.” 

“Nice.” Tom wrapped a dark piece of cloth around Draco’s eyes and tied it off at the back of his head. “We’re going to try something new tonight. No vision, no speaking. I just want you to lie there and enjoy what’s happening. Okay?” He shoved the ball-gag back into his mouth before he could reply. “That goes for me, too. I’m going to be deadly silent.” Tom climbed off the bed and opened the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back, need to get something.” 

Draco nodded as best as he could.

* * *

The room remained silent for nearly an hour. The blond began to worry. Either something bad happened to Tom or Tom was not coming back on purpose. He jerked at his restraints as panic began to slowly set in. 

“Sorry about that, love, I’m back.” Draco felt the touch of Tom’s warm hand ease his worry. “I got detained by an emergency call from work. Seems the loan company whose horrible reputation we’re trying to repair wanted to back out on the deal we made. Can’t have that now, can we?” Draco relaxed back against the soft mattress as all of his worry flitted away. 

Tom silently beckoned someone else inside the bedroom so he could take his leave without Draco knowing. “Alright, no more talking. You just relax and enjoy what I’m doing to you.” He handed the prostitute he had hired to take his place that night a bottle of massage oil and left the room, locking both of them inside. 

Having already gone over explicit instructions of what he wanted the young man to do to Draco so he could leave the home undetected, Tom grabbed his keys and set off to the flat that was currently occupied by the man of his dreams.

* * *

This plan he was working out had been in place for nearly a week. Tom was resourceful, and had placed several bugs inside the flat when he dropped off Draco’s and Harry’s belongings during the move. He had also gotten Harry’s friend Ron to trust him when Harry asked his ginger friend to locate a new dealer for him inside London. After that, everything just fell into place. 

After signing in as a guest at the front desk under the name Thersander Sisyphus, he climbed the lift and applied some lip balm before knocking. He leaned a shoulder against the frame, watching Harry peer out into the hallway through the peephole. 

“And you are…?” Harry asked him, spotting his handsome face off to the side. “I smell bacon, mate. You the fuzz? You have to tell me if I ask, you know.” 

Tom chuckled. “I’m not with the police. I’m here because you ordered something.” He peered back into the peephole. A hue of vivid green was staring back at him. “Oh fuck, Harry darling…” 

“How about leaving it at the front desk and I’ll have the valet pay you.” 

“I don’t deal with front desks or valets. Obviously, I’ve made a mistake. I’ll be going.” He turned to leave but the door opened behind him. 

“Wait.” Harry was looking at him in silent contemplation. The chain was still attached to the door but the need for the drugs the man had in his possession overtook any fear he was experiencing. He could smell it on his person, and it smelled fucking amazing; it smelled like calmness, of relaxation. He waved a wad of money through the crack. “Pass the bag through.” 

Tom shook his head. “I don’t do deals in front of cameras either.” His dark eyes flicked up to the camera bracketed on the wall facing Potter’s door. “Let me in, we’ll do it inside.” 

“Fuck no,” Harry replied. “You could be a narc or something. I’ve never seen a drug dealer with perfectly-groomed hair like yours before.” 

“Yeah, I’m a narc here to bust you for buying a few ounces of weed. Honestly, you little prat, I didn’t come here to be taunted. I’ve got to look the part when delivering to these fancy upper-class buildings. You think they’d let me in if I didn’t?” Shrugging, Tom turned his back on Harry to walk away. “Right, good luck getting someone else to deliver to you on your terms in this area, plonker.” 

The sounds of clinking metal sang like angels in Tom’s ears. 

Harry heaved in a deep breath. “Alright, but you fucking better be legit or you’ll be sorry.” He waved him inside. “Come in, make it snappy.” 

Tom pushed his way inside and shut and locked the door behind him. His eyes travelled around the room while his ears pricked up to listen for any sounds of other people being inside with them. “Nice place. You live here alone?” 

“No,” Harry said. He held up the cash and wagged his fingers upward in gesture for the marijuana. “Come on, I ain’t got all night.” 

“Relax,” Tom told him. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a nice-sized bag full of bud. He removed a joint from inside and lit it. He inhaled its smoke before handing it to Harry. “Don’t you want to try before you buy?” 

Harry took it from him and hit it. He held the smoke inside his lungs while he looked Tom up and down. In his frantic need to stop the man from leaving before he got his stash, Harry had forgotten to make sure this guest didn’t have any of the characteristics that _he_ had. This guy was really tall. He looked to be around the same height as _him_. “You’re really tall.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” Tom tipped his head, letting his lip curl up on one side in a sneer. “You like the stuff or not?” 

Harry took another hit and handed the joint back to Tom. His anxiety began to wane. “Yeah, it’s good. You uh, you got a pipe on you? Or papers? I’m not allowed to have any drug paraphernalia inside this place.” 

Tom’s eyes roamed up the length of Harry, who was far more gorgeous than he remembered. He was wearing a little pair of cutoffs and an over-sized t-shirt that had slipped off of one of his shoulders. He had always found Harry’s messy hair attractive, and boy was it ever messy then. “Says who, your mum?” 

Harry blushed and looked down at his feet. “My boy…a friend. My roommate. We share the place. He gets drug-tested at work randomly. I shouldn’t even be smoking inside but he’s never home on Fridays.” 

“Boyfriend, eh?” A smile curled up on Tom’s lips. He held the bag out. “I’ll bring a pipe next month when you run out. That is if you want to keep this little relationship between us going.” 

“More like next week. Friday again, after eight?” Harry snatched the bag and tossed him five-hundred pounds. “This’ll be gone by then.” Hell, if Ron and Hermione stopped by it might be gone before the end of the weekend. “And if you got anything else - not uppers, though, unless it’s cocaine, but it needs to be cut with Xanax or Valium. And nothing you have to inject. Snorting is fine. Bring whatever, money’s no object.” 

Jesus. “Next Friday then.” Tom held up two fingers. There was a business card trapped between them. “My private number. Call me whenever you need anything.” He tossed it at Harry, turned and unlocked the door. “And I mean _anything._ Name’s Thers.” 

“Thanks. I will,” Harry said. He smiled at Tom as he closed the door, and watched the man get into the lift through the peephole. He flipped around and put his back to the door, and mimed shaking and throwing a pair of dice. “Fuck yes, new dealer obtained. Suck it, Draco.”

* * *

Tom entered his home and moved quickly to the bedroom to unlock the door. He beckoned the escort out without words and led him to the foyer. He held up the wad of cash he got from Harry, and snatched the man’s wrist when he moved to grab it. “Not one fucking word about this to anyone. Come back next Friday and do the same thing and you’ll get another one of these.” He thrust the wad in the young man’s hand and shoved him outside. 

He undressed as he made his way back to the bedroom and slipped under the covers beside Draco, who was currently hogtied in the centre of the mattress. He untied him. “You staying the night with me?” 

Exhausted and spent in every other way, Draco considered it. “Maybe.” 

Tom closed his eyes but reopened them when he felt Draco shift and get off the bed. “Where are you going?” 

Draco pulled his shirt on. “I can’t stay. Harry doesn’t like being alone. He could have an episode or something. I really need to be home with him.” 

“You’re really good to him. I like that, Malfoy.” Tom folded his hands behind his head. “He’s lucky to have you.” 

Draco threw up a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, I’m amazing to him, that’s why I’m getting dressed in your bedroom after we had sex.” He threw up a hand when Tom opened his mouth to respond. “It’s alright, I’ve already come to terms with this. I fancy you, Tom, despite the things you do to me in bed.” 

“Look, Draco,” Tom said. He sat up in the bed and got to his knees. He took Draco’s hand and kissed it. “If I’m being too rough you can tell me. I thought you enjoyed what we do together.” 

“I do,” Draco replied, feeling somewhat guilty about insulting the man he was cheating on his boyfriend with. “And I do fancy you, but I love Harry. Despite his issues he’s a wonderful person underneath. I’ll finish out this contract between us because I want to keep my job very much so, but when we’re done I’m going to confess everything to Harry and pray that he forgives me. Are you alright with that?” 

Tom tightened his grip on Draco’s hand. “You can’t tell him about me.” 

“I’m not going to tell him specifics.” Draco yanked his hand back. “He’s already suspicious. He probably already knows…” 

“Just a few more weeks,” Tom murmured, aloof to Draco’s problems. “That’s all I’ll need to achieve my goal.”

* * *

_The man in the black robes moved closer. His skull-white face and crimson eyes lit up as a moonbeam of light hit him through the window. He pressed his fingertips together and grinned. His pointed teeth parted and his forked tongue snaked out as the grin turned into hysterical laughter. Harry looked up at him from the floor. His breath got caught, his screams trapped inside his throat._

_“Surrender. Stop fighting back. Embrace the darkness.” The man reached inside his robes and produced a long silvery dagger. He raised it up over his head. “Time to die, just like your parents!” He brought the dagger down, slashing it through the air at Harry._

With a scream of bloody murder, Harry shot up in the bed and gripped the sheets. With his eyes wide open, Lord Voldemort standing at the foot of the bed. _“No!_ ” 

Draco jerked awake. “Harry, it’s okay!” He wrapped his arms around the terrified young man and cradled him while they rode out the panic as one. He petted his lover's messy hair like a cat, stroking it for comfort. He placed a kiss on his cheek. “Tell me what happened, darling. Are you alright?” 

Harry curled into Draco’s lap, still out of breath over the ordeal. “It was Lord Voldemort, looking more strange than ever. He had a dagger…I couldn’t move.” 

“Well, he’s dead. It was only a dream,” Draco reminded him. 

“We don’t know that. They never did find his body,” Harry reminded Draco. 

“Yeah, but there was too much blood there, far too much for anyone to survive.” 

Harry was trembling. “If that was all his blood, yeah. But what if it wasn’t?” He hiccoughed and shook, clearly exhausted and overwhelmed. “I hate my life. I hate being trapped inside here. I hate that I’m this way.” 

“Stop, darling.” Draco clenched his teeth. “You’re working yourself up again. Let’s practice our calming skills while I ring Dumbledore.” He groped around for his mobile while he and Harry worked on steadying his breathing. “I’m sorry to call so late, but could you please wake up Albus. Yeah, it’s Harry, he had a nightmare about You-Know-Who again. A bad one.” He pulled his arm tighter around Harry as the young man began to cry. “It’s okay, honey, he’ll be on the line in a minute.” 

Within the minute, Draco held the phone to Harry’s ear. “Hullo, Dr Dumbledore. I’m sorry I…uh, yeah, I think I did. I was on the ground, I was stuck…I don’t remember all the details but he had a long knife…Yeah, the typical bullshit speech before he struck…Robes, yeah I think…much stranger, like, forked-tongue and bright-red eyes strange. Yeah, a little bit. My hands stopped shaking…Okay…yeah, Draco’s here. I’ll take them, I promise. Thank you.” 

Draco folded his mobile and looked at Harry. “You need your pills? You want a drink or something to help you fall back asleep?” 

Harry gave him a nod. “Yeah, pills and a drink, please.” He watched Draco climb off the bed. “And hurry back,” he added.

* * *

Tom listened to the young man fretting to himself while Draco was out of the room. The bug in the bedroom picked up the most lovely sounds. “God, he’s more fucked-up than I thought.” He chuckled while he stroked himself to hardness. The image of Harry standing inside his flat with those little cutoffs and that t-shirt while he fidgeted around fuelled his fantasy. He was so afraid of everything, but was such a fucking addict he let a tall stranger into his home so he could get his drug fix. This was going to be a lot easier and way more fun than he first thought. 

He listened while Harry guzzled down a bottle of wine, then let Draco fuck him through the mattress. To Tom’s surprise, Draco was using a lot of the techniques on Harry that he used on him. He was dominating him, making him submit to whatever wicked thing he wanted to do to him. “Interesting.” The idea of dominating Harry raced through his mind while the pleasure of coming soared through his veins. He shuttered through spasm after spasm as he emptied his balls into a tissue. When he was finished he smacked the headphones off of his ears and sat back in his chair, his twisted mind set on the next meeting with Harry.

* * *

It was Friday. Draco was leaving to cheat on Harry again - but this would be the last time. He could not take it anymore; Tom had become seriously possessive and really fucking strange in bed. Mostly, Draco was tied up to something for hours on end without anyone else being in the room. He did not fancy Tom anymore, and the guilt of doing this in the first place just to get a promotion turned his stomach. As he dressed, he wondered to himself why he would even bother trying to look nice for the man. 

He could see Harry out in the living room sitting on the sofa. The young man was fretting to himself. He had had a bad day in the flat while Draco was at work, but hadn’t called him to help him calm him down, and that worried Draco. Harry called Hermione and Ron instead. And Harry had been distant, growing more so each day. Draco was afraid he might be losing him. 

He walked into the living room and sat down beside him. He touched his shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Hey, you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Harry replied. His tone was flat and he had barely looked at him when he said it. 

“Tonight’s the last night,” Draco promised as he cupped Harry’s pretty face in his hands. 

“You’ve said that before.” 

“I mean it this time,” Draco said. “Harry, look at me. I love you so much, more than you’ll ever know.” 

Harry curled into Draco’s embrace. “Sure.” 

It hurt to not hear him say it back. Draco molded himself around him. “I’ll explain everything to you when I get back. I wish I could stay.” 

Hugging him back, Harry nuzzled into his warmth. “Why can’t you?” 

“Yeah, why can’t I?” Draco eased Harry back against the couch and pressed his body down on top of him. For the first time in a long while, Draco left out any sort of domination over Harry. He knew Tom was punishing him more and more through each date, but Harry didn’t deserve to have the man’s frustrations taken out on him. With the gentlest of touches, he kissed Harry while he caressed his face. 

And then his mobile rang. 

“Ignore it,” Harry whispered. 

Then the land line rang. 

“You think something’s happened?” Draco asked Harry while both telephones just kept ringing off the hook without mercy. And then Harry’s mobile lit up, stirring both of them to want to answer them. “Maybe someone’s died.” 

“Maybe there’s been a Voldemort sighting!” Harry shouted. He flipped his mobile open. “Hello? Hello?” he repeated into the phone and his mobile, having answered both at once. “There’s no one here.” 

The moment Draco answered his he was promptly told to ‘move to another room immediately’. “Tom?” 

“Why aren’t you here?” 

“I can’t make it tonight,” Draco told him. 

Tom already knew that, though, having listened to Draco trying to fuck Harry on the sofa through the bug he had hidden in their living room lamp. But this was the night he was going to act, to finish what he started once and for all. Having gotten very acquainted with Harry over the last two months, he had finally garnered his perfect trust. Harry no longer hesitated to let him in, and his last two visits went so well Harry asked him to stay and visit a little longer. He needed Draco out the door. 

_“This will be our last date, but only if you come tonight. I will sack your arse if you are not here within 30 minutes. Leave now.”_

“Fuck…” Draco looked into the hallway and saw Harry staring back at him. He held his mobile up and sighed. “It was my boss. There’s an emergency and if I don’t get there in 30 minutes I’ll be sacked.” 

Harry gave him a dirty look. “Fine, go. I got Thers coming over tonight anyway. He’ll keep me company while you’re at work.” 

“Your drug dealer? Absolutely not. No,” Draco said. “You get your weed and you send him on his way. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” 

Harry looked away. “Right…You just go do your thing. Where did you say you were going again?” 

Draco pulled Harry against him. “I swear this will be the last time I leave you.” He kissed him but Harry hardly kissed him back. 

“Just go.” Harry removed himself from Draco’s embrace. “I’m sure Thers would love to “keep me company” tonight while you’re at “work”.” 

“Harry, c’mon, please don’t do this,” Draco begged, watching Harry pour himself a glass of wine. His mobile lit up again. 

Harry’s eyes drifted to the mobile in Draco’s hand. He scowled. 

Draco looked at the number. It was Tom again. 

“Oh, work calling again? Your boss can’t wait for you to get your tail over there, can he?” Harry was done. He’d move back in with the Dursleys until he finished therapy to conquer the panic attacks. He was sick and tired of listening to Draco whine and make excuses anymore, he simply pointed at the door while he dialled up a number on his own mobile. “Yeah, Hermione, what’s going on tonight?” 

Draco inhaled a lumbering breath, ready to fight back but Harry walked away. “Fuck it!” he shouted as he left the flat. He stomped over to the lift and clicked the button several times in quick succession out of frustration. The private lift came to a stop. 

The doors opened and a man in a skull-white mask was standing inside. His head rose up as a wicked laugh gave the blond a jolt of fear. He opened his crimson eyes. “About fucking time!” 

“What the hell!?” Draco exclaimed, almost breathlessly, his brain struggling to comprehend what was happening. Two leather-clad hands trust out and pulled Draco into the lift before he could scream.

* * *

Harry opened the door and waved his dealer inside. Hermione was resting on the sofa watching something on the television. Tom hadn’t expected Harry to have company. He was supposed to be alone. He dropped his head so the girl could not see his face clearly. “You have company. I’ll come back,” he whispered, and turned to leave. 

Harry gasped. “No, she’s not staying. Just keeping me company until you got here.” 

“Did you take the lift up? It wasn’t working when I got here. Had to climb up nine bloody floors,” Hermione remarked as she got up off the sofa. She squinted at Tom through the dim lighting. “That him?” 

“Yeah, the bloke Ron found, my dealer.” He grabbed Tom’s wrist to keep him from leaving. “He’s the one I was telling you about.” He gestured to the door. “Didn’t you say you had to be going?” 

The girl got the hint. She walked up to Harry and rubbed up against his side. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” She peeped up at Tom as she unlocked the door. “You look familiar. Have we met?” 

“I don’t think so,” Tom replied. He feigned being somewhat shy so Hermione would stop fucking staring at him while she filed through her warped mind as to where she had seen him before.

Lucky for him, her mind gave up any effort to find the memory in under a second. She was far too high at the moment. Instead, she spoke. “Ugh, I’ll think about that later. Hey - Be nice to him. Make him forget about Malfoy, maybe he’ll finally dump his ass once and for all,” she remarked, nudging Tom, and left the flat. 

Harry shut and locked the door and turned around giddily in anticipation for the latest bag of drugs being delivered. “Ooh, what’d you bring me this time, my favourite sugar daddy?” He rubbed his hands together as Tom produced a bottle of pills. He presented them with a wink while he looked Harry up and down. Tom was freshly shaved, primped, wearing skin-tight trousers and smelling amazing, he had Harry drooling for loads more than the drugs. 

"Favourite? Hopefully the only sugar daddy you need." Tom’s charming smile showed off all of his perfect teeth. “I’m hoping these will get me a shot of getting into those sweat shorts you’re always wearing that I’m so fond of.” 

Harry laughed while he stretched his t-shirt down over his shorts. “You are so bad.” 

The gorgeous serial killer grinned. “Yes I am.” 

Playing hard to get, at least until whatever Tom gave him kicked in, Harry protested. “You know I have a boyfriend.” 

Tom licked his lips. “That’s right. When do I get to meet him? Is he here?” 

Harry shook his head, disappointed. “No.” 

This had become a regular occurrence on Fridays for the two of them; Tom would get Harry high as fuck and flirt with him until Harry made him leave. Tonight, though, things would change. 

“We’re going to nirvana together, you and me,” Tom told him. He popped the lid off the pills he’d brought with him and dropped several onto Harry’s palm. “Got any beer?” 

“Beer’s in the crisper. You taking a trip with me this time?” Harry asked him as he popped the pills in his mouth. He pointed to the crisper. 

“Yeah, I’m coming tonight.” _All over your pretty face._ Tom swallowed a single pill and chased it down with a beer. 

There were two different types of pills given to Harry. “What’d I just take?” Harry asked him as he fell back on the sofa. He had a bottle of wine in hand, intent on draining it to get drunk enough to let Tom seduce him. Fuck Draco, that unfaithful prick. He’ll be sorry, oh will he ever. 

Tom took the wine away from him. He needed Harry not to black out this eve. “It’s a little cocktail I put together just for you. You’re always so tense. This will ebb that all away. It’s mainly ecstasy.” _But it also contains Rohypnol._ “Soon you’ll feel really relaxed, then you’ll drift off into a wondrous state of euphoria.” _Oh, and then you’ll get very tired_. 

Harry groped out for the wine but Tom straddled his hips to stop him. “Don’t get too wasted, alright? What I gave you is more than plenty.” The dealer playfully held his petite buyer down on the sofa. He gave the young man a charming smile. “I’ve got you trapped. All to myself now. Whatever shall we do about this?” 

“I’m not going to lie, Draco left me alone here tonight to go have sex with someone else. He’s been cheating on me for a long time now,” Harry replied. He gave Tom a look that told him everything he wanted to know. “And tonight we sort of had a falling out.” 

“And here I am to pick you back up and take you to your happy place,” Tom said as he nuzzled down on top of Harry. “What incredible timing, don’t you think, pretty thing?” 

“Why do you call me that?” Harry responded as he sat up and took the glass from him. “It reminds me of…” 

“Of _what_? Or... _who?_ ” Tom planted his lips prone with Harry’s neck and began to suck. He pulled Harry into his embrace and removed his glasses. “So, the boyfriend is a louse, cheating on you. I can’t imagine anyone cheating on a pretty little thing like you, doll. Ever thought about getting him back?” Tom asked him. 

Harry let the pills and wine take control of his conscious thought. Tom was fondling him under his t-shirt, and he didn’t stop him. “I dunno. What do you mean…like cheating on him back? I really shouldn’t. I’m just pissed off at him because I’m positive he’s cheating on me.” 

Tom took Harry by the chin. He lifted his head as he leaned in and briefly pressed their lips together. “Let me make you feel better.” His voice was soft and gentle like his caresses. 

“Thers, what are you doing?” Harry asked him in a groggy tone, feeling the man’s hands slide upward along his back. Harry shifted to remove them, but Tom playfully pinned his wrists together behind him. 

Then he nudged Harry’s chin with his lips. “Perhaps you need me to take control of this situation. I’m not going to stop until you say ‘yes’.” He gathered the young man into his lap. He took it very slow, keeping Harry feeling very, very at ease. 

The pretty boy closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the man’s strong shoulder. “I’ve never done this with anyone else besides Draco.” 

“Are you afraid?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” Tom whispered against Harry’s throat. 

“…No,” Harry replied after a pregnant pause. “Are you going to take me to bed?” 

“Eventually we’ll make it to the bed, Harry, but I’m going to take you on this sofa here first.” He heard Harry sigh in response. He hefted him up and dropped him back into his lap so the young man was facing him in a straddle, his wrists still restrained together in one of Tom’s large hands. The older man dipped his tongue in his mouth and cradled the back of his head to ease him into the kiss, to part his lips for him with his own and twine their tongues. 

Harry felt his own body respond in reciprocation. Thers was a welcome presence in Draco’s cold absence. Thers was sweet and was a huge flirt, yet kind, sensitive and attentive to Harry’s issues. Oh, and it did not hurt at all that he was massively good-looking and also very charming. It was so easy now, so bloody easy to let go of the anxiety, the trepidation, the guilt he felt about betraying Draco. Harry’s head lolled back as Tom sucked on his throat. Nothing felt this good before, never experienced as much passion that burned white-hot between the two. “Fuck him,” he whispered, feeling Tom undressing him. 

Tom grabbed Harry’s chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t wanna fuck him tonight, honey, I wanna fuck you.” The moment he got Harry’s briefs off, Tom knew he had clinched the deal. There was no turning back, the look of Harry’s face, his burning desire to stay in close physical contact due to the ecstasy, and his mumbling verbiage said it all. They kissed while the man eased the pretty boy back against the sofa cushions. He stood up and undressed. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel really good,” Harry replied dreamily. “But I’d be better if you were back down here touching me.” He was blushing, nibbling on his bottom lip but he was not saying ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ anymore, he was now saying ‘yes’. 

Tom forced himself not to take Harry right then and there. He needed to be soft, gentle, to treat him the way Harry liked to be treated, the way Draco was unable to do any longer because Tom had fucked him up so badly over the last year. “Where do you keep your lube, pretty thing?” 

Harry pointed to the hallway on the right of the living room. “In the bedroom.” 

The older man blew him a kiss. “I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me.” 

When he returned, Harry gazed up at him. Nothing felt out of place at the moment. He allowed Tom to part his thighs, to nestle down in between them and fondle him while he assured him that this was the right decision to make. Two of Tom’s well-oiled fingers slid nicely inside Harry, while his other oil-slicked hand toyed with his aching erection. His ankles were propped up on Tom’s shoulders. 

“I can make you come without even touching this pretty cock of yours.” Tom would slide his first two fingers in palm-side down, then flip them around inside of Harry, who always responded with the sexiest little whimpers in response. Every so often Tom would pull his fingers out and ease his cock inside of Harry. But after only a few thrusts, he found himself on the cusp of orgasm. “Fuck, it feels too fucking good. I’ve got to slow down.” 

Harry agreed, and begged Tom to slow down every few seconds, finding himself far more sensitive than he was used to. He wasn’t drunk or numb, and the pills he had swallowed intensified any sort of skin-to-skin touching. “You high yet?” Harry asked him. The pleasure was so great, so powerful from Tom’s hands. “I’m on fucking cloud nine.” 

“No, I didn’t take anything to get me high, I took an aspirin…headache,” Tom responded as he backed his erection out of Harry once more before he came, and pointed to his temple. 

“Oh, I thought you were going to trip with me,” Harry said through a pout. It didn’t matter though. He was feeling nothing but pleasure. There was no fear, no anxiety, no tension - just amazing pleasure flowing through his entire being. 

“Oh, I’m coming to nirvana with you, sweet-cheeks, but I don’t need to get high to make that happen. I’m far too sensitive as is when I’m near you to take ecstasy, if I did I’d just be a quivering mass on the floor. That’s how fucking hot you are to me.” Tom moved his fingers inside Harry, harder, faster, while he stroked his cock from root to tip, ignoring his pleas to slow down. “Just let it happen. Come for me.” 

With a wispy gasp, Harry gripped the cushions. “Oh yes,” he whispered. He arched as the euphoria blossomed to eruption. Tom immediately leaned in to suction the come out of him by fastening his lips around the head of his prick. He sucked and licked Harry clean and sat back, his fingers still moving inside him as pretty boy rode out the waves of pleasure. 

Tom pulled his fingers out slow as he sat back on his heels. He pressed the palms of his hands down on Harry’s inner thighs and sunk himself inside of him. His head fell forward, his eyes drifted closed. This was all he ever he wanted. He nearly cried from the emotion swelling within him. It only took a handful of thrusts before he was weeping for joy through the immense bliss wracking his body. He pulled out and felt Harry’s fingers take hold of him to aid his bursting orgasm. Tom sighed through gritted teeth. It felt as if Tom had consumed Harry’s life-essence to add it to his. Harry was one of the few special ones on Earth that rivalled Tom’s own perfection. He could only think of three other people alive that were their equals, and all three of them were currently treating Harry for all of the emotional bullshit Tom had afflicted upon him. “At last.” 

Harry peeped up at him. “Huh?” 

Tom cupped the young man’s face in his trembling hands. He had become overwhelmed with ardour. Large tears drizzled down his cheeks. “You’ve just given me everything I’ve ever wanted, Harry.” 

“You’re welcome?” Harry replied, confused by Tom’s alien response. He reached for his t-shirt to mop at the semen. He tossed it aside and pulled his shorts up while Tom let the intensity of emotion overtake his consciousness. “Alright, mate, pull yourself together. You should go before Draco gets back. I don’t want him to see you.” 

Snapping out of his daze, Tom grabbed Harry’s wrist as he attempted to get off of the sofa. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I was gonna get the door for you.” Harry was far too relaxed to comprehend what Tom was alluding to. “You need to leave before Draco gets home.” 

With a chuckle, Tom brought Harry’s hand up to his lips. “I’m not done having my way with you yet, pretty thing.” 

“Stop fucking callin’ me…tha,” Harry tried to say but lethargy began to overpower the ecstasy. He fell back against the cushions. “Get out. Draco’s a monster. He's way bigger than you are, takes loads of steroids and...and he's the jealous sort…super angry. He’ll kill you if you’re here when he gets home!” 

Tom responded to the threat with laughter. “Somebody looks awfully sleepy.” 

Harry glared up at Tom as he fumbled around for him mobile. His vision was blurry, his fingers clumsy. “Get out right now…or I'll call the police.” The phone was promptly plucked from his hand. 

Tom stood over him, shining naked in the moonlight through the parted drapes adorning the wall of windows. 

There was a scar on his abdomen, just above his hip. A stab wound on the very spot where Harry gave _him_ a wound a long time ago. 

Tom held out a hand, urging Harry to take it. “Come on, don’t make me have to restrain you this early in the evening.” 

Harry tore his eyes off the scar at those words. “What!?” The world closed in on him. A cold chill trickled down his spine as the blood drained from his face. His breath caught, his chest sunk in on him, making it difficult to breathe. His heart began to race as he jabbed a finger at himself, feeling his lungs close up on him. “Stop trying to scare…me, please. Can’t breathe.” 

Tom groaned while his head lolled to his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, let’s have the attack already. Get it out of the way so we can get down to business, nutter.” 

Harry struggled to speak, feeling the heat between he and Tom rise to threatening levels. Tom couldn’t be _him,_ the monster who terrorised him throughout his childhood. There was no mask, no robes to hide weapons in. But he was tall, far taller than anyone else he had ever met - that is besides _him_. This was not something he and Dr Dumbledore worked on to confront during Cognitive behavioural therapy. Lord Voldemort, if this was indeed him, was supposed to be wearing a fucking mask. “Are…uh, are you…why…what…” 

 _“Uh, uh, uh, wheeze, cough, I can’t breathe! Help me, I’m a spastic waste of a human being who can’t control myself_ \- Christ, you’re pathetic!” Tom bent over the boy. “Gimme your fuckin’ hand so we can finish this.” 

“Who are you?!” Harry spat out through a burst of adrenaline-fuelled bravery. 

“Oh my God, you bloody basket case, do I honestly need to spell it for for you - _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!_ ” He dropped and crushed Harry’s mobile under his heel, and popped the joints in his neck to compose himself. He needed to savour this moment - to not allow himself to flip-out and slaughter Harry before he got enough joy out of terrorising him. He smiled down at him, watching the boy try to bury himself within the cushions. Tom held a hand out one more time. “Come on, get up. We’ve got a date to finish on your bed.” 

Out of sheer terror, Harry began to hyperventilate. His vision blackened with spots while he groped around the sofa for something to defend himself with. His lack of oxygen and the pills Tom had given him had clouded his mind and dulled his senses. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re having a fit, I get it. You’re going to make me do all the fucking work here, aren’t you? Up you go.” Without much protest, Tom lifted his victim up into his arms and carried him off to the master bedroom.


	3. In the Face of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sleeping with the devil, both Harry and Draco are in for a helluva night.

Harry sighed and rolled over onto his back. He was hung-over; dizzied and fuzzy, with an added splitting headache to top it all off. He sat up and cupped his forehead in hopes of staving off a wave of nausea churning inside him. Slowly, his mind began to clear. He looked down at himself and shuddered. He brought his hand down over his mouth to quiet his uncontrolled breathing that began to steadily rise. Something wasn’t right. Something very bad had happened.

As if on cue, the door swung open. Lord Voldemort stood in the threshold wearing his mask, wearing the robes, looking very much like the man in Harry’s nightmares. Only this wasn’t a nightmare, nor was it a hallucination. He was real, definitely still alive, and he was here in his home standing over his bed. And then the memory of earlier that evening flooded back into Harry’s brain: he didn’t just get high this time and pass out, he let Lord Voldemort have sex with him. He gulped in a breath while his lungs constricted on him.

“Evening, sweet-cheeks,” Voldemort said through a cackle. “You still floating on cloud nine?”

“Fuck you, prick!” Harry pulled a sheet around himself as the man advanced.

“Been there, done that, darling; we’re well past fucking. We’re moving on to the next part of the date; the part where I make sure you die this time.” Voldemort dropped down on the bed and grabbed the young man, pinned him down and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Are you sober yet? You’ve been out for hours, surely even a bloody coke-whore of your calibre must be sober by now.”

Harry focused on his mask. His wonderful doctor had helped him get over the raw terror of seeing that mask during their stress inoculation therapy, where he faced and conquered his fear of seeing the monstrosity in nightmares, hallucinations, and in the real world. It had become a novelty of sorts in Britain, it was everywhere; people wore them in the streets, children dressed up like Lord Voldemort for Halloween, and the Daily Prophet loved to plaster its insides with the man’s likeness. It was one of the myriad of reasons Harry feared open spaces, of the outdoors, of being out in the public in general. But he had faced that demon as he was facing him now, and for once in a very long time Harry was able to control his breathing while staring into the face of death.

The older man shrugged and sat back, stunned. “Well, I’ll be damned, you can control yourself after all. Good, let’s go,” he said, taking the young man by the arm, yanking him off the bed. He put him in a headlock and forced him to walk with him into the adjoining dressing room. “Got a little surprise for you inside.”

The moment they came through the door, Tom smirked, saying, “Me thinks you exaggerated a bit about the size and strength of your supposed big bad boyfriend, Harry.” when they came face-to-face with Draco. “This scrawny little weakling couldn’t kick my dead granny’s arse. More likely he’d cheat on her.” He wrapped himself around Harry’s quivering frame as the young man stared blankly at Draco, and snorted. “I know, no words for the man who delivered you straight into my arms.” He hummed while he mocked humping the young man, his dark eyes watched Draco begin to unwind, helpless to stop him.

Harry looked away and closed his eyes. His heart was racing out of control seeing his one hope of being rescued hanging from a hook in front of him, while being forced to stand there and let Voldemort humiliate them both.

Tom made a sexy purring sound in his throat while he nuzzled his face into Harry’s neck, still eyeing Draco. He pressed his lips on the shell of Harry’s ear. “Why did you stay with this scum-sucking pig for so long, pretty boy? He’s told me all about yours and his relationship. How fucked up you are, about how awful he treats you - especially in bed. He’s using you to appease his sadistic nature, and he keeps you frightened and drugged up so you can’t leave him.”

“That’s a fucking lie!” Draco hissed back. His hands were bound up over his head, tied to a hook fastened on the wall. He focused on Harry, looking him over for any visible marks. “Hon, are you okay?” he asked him. He had been so worried that Lord Voldemort had already slaughtered him, having woken up inside of the dressing room in the position he was in now.

“He’s good…” Voldemort said for him. He pulled his mask off and drew the length of his tongue up the side of Harry’s face. “…in bed. Phenomenal, even. I have no idea why he would move in here with you, as foul as you are to him.”

He bound Harry’s wrists together with thin rope and hung the end on another hook on the wall across from Draco, pulling it so taut Harry had to stand on his toes. All the while he taunted Draco about sleeping with his boyfriend. “Don’t worry, when we fucked on your sofa, Draco, when Harry said and I quote, “Fuck his cheating arse. Take me in the worst way, Thers,” like that…but, um, it may have been worded a bit differently now that I think on it…Where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying, when I finally managed to fill this pretty little come-dumpster up with my spunk - it was completely consensual. He willingly gave it up.” He patted Harry on the cheek. “Just like the slut-bag junkie I always knew he’d grow up to be.”

When he finished tying him off, he stood over Harry looking down at his trembling frame. “Good craftsmanship in here, you won’t be able to break that hook off.” He nudged him in the ribs while he pointed upward at the vaulted ceiling inside the dressing room. “Pays to tolerate this fucking rich snob who treats you like an object, I suppose. Least he’s good for something, ain’t that right pretty thing?”

He moved over to Draco and winked while he tore the man’s shirt open. “As we’ve all been intimate,” he said, then put a hand up to the side of his mouth. “Your boyfriend is so easy, he let me literally suck the come out of him when he came in my mouth.” He dropped the mask on the ground, feeling he no longer needed to wear it. He looked back at Harry for a moment, hearing the young man’s breathing grow terse. Then back to Draco. “The only big problem is he’s like some sort of mental butter-face. If only you could put a paper bag over his madness he’d make the perfect boyfriend.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip while he returned to and snuggled up against Harry. “As I was saying, Harry darling, you were correct in your assumption that Draco was an unfaithful louse. I should also tell you that he didn’t even question the sex-slave story I made up on the spot to see how fucking stupid he was. He wanted to cheat on you with me because…well, let’s face the facts,” Tom said in a snooty voice. “I’m amazing, but you…you’re useless, pathetic, worthless…honestly, I could go on forever describing how pointless your existence is in this world.”

He turned to face Draco again, enjoying this game of lowering ones self esteem enough in order to feed off of their dread. “I know why you let me manipulate you so easily, too, Malfoy. This dotty slag is hardly any sort of decent companion. His dependence on you must be a massive turn-on, I suppose, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty.” He wagged a finger at Harry then, giggling. “I mean, I get it. I’d keep hitting it if I didn’t want to see your insides on the outside so badly - which I do.”

“Why?” Harry cried. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Lord Voldemort took him by the chin and lifted his wavering head up to look him in the eye. A sadness shone from the pools of the darkest of irises Harry had ever seen. “I don’t hate you. This is just business. All of you have to-”

“Please don’t hurt him!” Draco begged him, seeing a blade of some sort glinting in the man’s hand as he raised it up towards Harry’s face.

Lord Voldemort turned and crossed the room. He held the dagger up to the blond’s neck, scowling. “If you can’t stand here quietly while I speak with him I might as well just bleed you out right now. Oh yeah, and by the way - you’re fired.”

Harry gasped for air while he forced himself not to plead for Draco’s life, fearing the man would finish him off right then and there. Tom sneered at the terrified boy anyway as he pressed the dagger up under Draco’s chin. “You have something to say, Harry? You gonna beg me to spare this little cunting fuck-hole’s life?”

“Nah, no need.” Draco hardened in his presence. “I’ll be quiet, Tom.”

Tom relaxed, smiled and patted his cheek. “That’s my boy, such a quick learner.” He looked back at Harry, who was really struggling to stay conscious. Tom crossed back to him. “Relax, crackhead. Nobody will die for a while if you can manage to pull your shit together.” He wagged the knife in his face, chuckling as he looked back at Draco. “My God, he is so fucking mental. What is this - shell shock?”

“Yeah,” Draco said. “PTSD, one of the many things you’ve given him.”

“He’s given me things over the years, too.” Voldemort’s jovial taunts drifted off. He traced the scar on Harry’s forehead with a finger, then touched his own jutting hipbone, feeling the scar Harry had given him. He caressed the boy’s face in an almost loving manner, looking forlorn. “We share things, he and I. We are so much more alike than he knows.”

Still speaking to Draco, Tom gazed upon Harry, caressing him like a lover. “And as much as I criticise him, he is indeed an extraordinary human being. Peak human, you might call it. We were all born with a genetic anomaly that grants us many gifts; excelled intelligence, wisdom, charm, good looks, and an even greater excelled talent for staying alive. Our brains are more open, more focused. Only a handful of our sort have been identified in this country, and we’re all connected through this gift. Harry’s parents both had it. The good doctor who treats Harry for his ailments is also one of them.”

“If Harry’s so special why would you want to kill him?” Draco asked the madman.

“Excellent question,” Tom said, while trying to regain his composure. “Every time I kill one of them I grow stronger. It prolongs my life. The younger the better. The young ones carry so much life-force to feed off of. I’ve been trying to kill this little addict since he was a toddler.” The soft hands on Harry’s face went rigid. Fingernails pressed into the skin. Tom scrunched his face up in hatred as he lowered his head in front of Harry’s. _“But you won’t fucking die!”_

The man wept. Overcome with raw emotion, he wrapped his arms around Harry and dropped his chin on top of his head. “I really wish I could stop myself, but I can’t. You seem like a really nice person. It was a lot of fun spending time with you over the last two months…”

The idea of spending the whole night terrorising the innocent boy felt a lot less euphoric to Tom anymore. He raised the blade up to Harry’s throat. “I won’t put you through any more torment. I’m so sorry it-” Voldemort’s eyes widened, hearing the front door to the flat slam shut. He clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth while pointing the knife at Draco, seething at him, mouthing the words, “You scream, he dies.

“Look at me,” Voldemort whispered hotly at Harry as he cut the rope from around his wrists. “You go out there and get rid of whoever walked in or everyone dies. I will gut Draco like a goddamn deer if you even hint to my presence here. I’ll be listening.”

Harry reached out with trembling hands to gather up the sheet pooled on the ground by his feet. He could barely breathe. Voldemort yanked him up and shoved him up against a row of shelves as the sound of the bedroom door creaked open. He dropped the scowl from his visage to help calm Harry’s nerves. “Pull yourself together right now. Draco’s depending on you, baby.” He patted his cheek before shoving him at the door.

Harry stepped out between the crack of the door, closing it behind himself and bumped into Hermione, who was just about to open the door herself. “Oh God,” Harry said, grabbing his chest. He had no control over his breathing. “You scared me.”

Hermione knew why without explanation. The girl took him by the arm and pushed him behind her. “He’s in there, isn’t he?”

“No, Hermione, don’t. I need you to go, okay?” Harry said and stopped her hand. He was shaken, out of breath, so obviously upset Hermione seethed.

“Oh hell no.” The frizzy-haired girl pressed her hands on Harry’s chest and moved him back. “I couldn’t stop thinking about where I saw your dealer before. And despite being high as hell, I went over it in my head until I remembered.”

She guided Harry to the living room, her eyes flicking over to Ron, who was standing by the door. “Grab hold of him, let’s get him out of here right now, Ron.” She bent down to grapple his legs as Ron clamped his hands around his upper arms. “I saw him at the Dursleys, Harry. That’s the bloke Malfoy is cheating on you with. He’s going to…”

Tom appeared, fast-walking toward them from the hallway, holding the dagger behind his back. He was clad only in his boxers, having ditched the robes. He advanced on the trio with intent to finish them all off, but Harry shouted out whatever he had to say to save both of their lives. “We’re having a threesome!”

Tom froze beside Harry, an instant away from slashing everyone to pieces. “Err…”

Hermione stood dumbfounded for a moment, then she and Ron released their best friend.

Harry was flush with adrenaline. He put a hand on Tom’s chest so he wouldn’t do anything rash. “’Mione, I didn’t want to tell you who he really was, but I knew. You already hate Draco so much already, I knew telling you would make it worse. But it’s true, we’re all sleeping together. Draco’s in there, too.”

“Is that what this is?” Ron asked him, then nudged Hermione. “You told me this bloke came over here to murder Harry. You dragged me all the way out here in the middle of the night to break up a threesome?”

But Hermione wasn’t falling for it - that was until Draco emerged from the hallway to stand next to Tom. Unlike Harry and Tom, Draco was still wearing clothing, although his linen shirt hung open and was sagging off of his shoulders. Very un-Malfoy-like. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, I told Hermione and Ron about the three of us so they’ll leave, you know, so we can get back to having that threesome…like we always have on Fridays. Isn’t that right, Thers?” Harry nudged the man’s arm and clasped his hand.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Tom added, shrugging. “I prefer my men a lot younger than me and in pairs.”

“Bullshit.” Hermione’s snarl never wavered as she listened to them fumble through this lie. She bared her fangs at Tom and Harry. “Why would you have me come over to cheer you up if you and these two were planning this all along?” She eyed the older man's posture. “What’re you hiding behind you back, old-timer?”

Draco silenced Tom before he could strike. “Oh, just get over yourself, A-cup.” The posh blond stepped in and scoffed at Hermione, focusing all of his attention on her. “Always have to put your nose in everything we do, don’t you?” He threw up a very convincing sneer. “This is our business. And not that I even give a flying-fuck if you believe me or not, you impoverished pothead, but what we’re doing in the bedroom together is completely consensual and perfectly safe, or my middle name isn’t Abraxas.” He pointed at the door. “Leave my home this instant, both of you.”

Harry’s eyes flicked to Draco.

After a slight pause and a minute gasp, Hermione scowled back at Draco and grabbed Ron by the arm. “Ferret-faced prick. You and your grandfather here better not hurt Harry.” She turned to Harry as Ron pulled her toward the door. “You call me immediately if you want me to get Dudley to come get you!” She let a blushing beet-red Ron pull her out of the flat.

The moment they crossed the threshold, she took her boyfriend’s mobile out of his hand while she took control of the situation and dragged him toward the lift. “What’s the bloody password!?” she cried.

“Wha? You heard what Malfoy said. They’re fine,” Ron whined back, but gave it up anyway. “It’s 1909, your birthday.”

“He knows me better than I thought.” She closed the lift door, locking them both inside and dialled the police as the mechanism descended to the first floor. She gave them Harry’s address and told them what she believed was happening inside their place. When she ended the call she addressed Ron’s question. “I understood exactly what Malfoy said, Ron, that’s precisely why I called the police.”

* * *

Tom lunged forward and locked the door behind Harry’s friends the instant they left. He put his back to it to wag the knife at Draco with a wild, crazed look in his eyes. “I don’t know how you got free off that hook in the dressing room, but you just saved both of their lives. Well, at least until I hunt them down and murder them before they can identifying me as your boss.” He tipped his head at Harry. “Mind giving me the address to their flat? It would certainly save me a bit of time.”

Draco watched the man wrap an arm around Harry and hold the knife back up to his throat. He reached out to hopefully stop him from hurting his lover. “Been loose for a while now. I was hiding it, but I thought you left the dressing room to come out here and murder Harry, so I came out here to stop you.”

“Noble,” Tom replied. He seesawed against Harry while he blew the black-haired man kisses. “Perhaps the first good thing you’ve ever done for this pathetic druggie.”

“Fuck off,” Harry hissed as he stiffened against the warm body holding him captive.

“You fuck off.” Tom glared at Draco while he tightened his grip on Harry’s neck with a forearm. “Blondie, come here right now, let’s get this over with.” The moment Draco was in front of him Tom shoved Harry at him to knock them both over. He grabbed a telephone and ripped the cord out of the wall. “Tie him up so you and I can have some private time together,” he instructed the blond. “Gotta hedge my bets, get this over with before my good fortune runs out. I’m taking Harry back to my place after I deal with you, but I certainly don’t want him too horrified yet. I’ve got this little speech I wrote for tonight. I’d really hate to waste all that time I put into it if he can’t register what I’m saying.”

“I love you no matter what,” Harry whispered, feeling Draco’s breath on the shell of his ear.

“No talking,” Tom growled. He watched Draco clumsily bind Harry’s wrists together and clucked his tongue. “Good and tight, Malfoy. Do the noble thing again and stop trying to come away from this situation alive.”

When the job was finished, Tom knelt down behind Harry to check the bindings on the hogtie. They appeared solid. “Give me your shirt,” he ordered, looking up.

Draco removed it and tossed it to Tom, who rolled it up and cleave-gagged Harry with it. He lifted him up into his arms and dropped him onto the sofa. “I hate to leave you here all alone, but we’ll finish this up back at my place.”

He turned around to grab Draco. “Good, let’s go have that final date.” He shoved the blond back toward the bedroom. “Unfortunately for you, this is when I break up with you, honey.”

Draco looked back over his shoulder as he was led off to his death. “I love you too, Harry.”

“Oh, please,” Tom spat.

Harry immediately pulled free the moment they both disappeared into the hallway. Draco had indeed bound his hands together as he’d been told, but he had also fed Harry a small length of extra cord with each coil, stuffing the slack between his palms. He untied his ankles and rushed off into the adjoining kitchen as fast as he could.

* * *

“How badly do you think Harry will take it if when I go back out there I’m painted in your blood? And be honest.”

“Maybe I didn’t see it as clearly before. Maybe you’re right and I did take for granted what I have with Harry, but I’m certain of what drives you to best him now. Harry is everything you wished you were.” Draco stiffened under the serial killer, watching his stupid grin fade away. “The one talent your supposed gods forgot to gift you with was human decency.” He remained indignant to the situation, showing no fear. “Because no matter how good-looking you are or charming you can be - you’re empty inside, a mere sociopath.”

"You still let me fuck you for a solid year despite my lack of a soul." Tom shrugged, hiding the fact that Draco’s words cut him very deeply. “Didn’t matter to you then, did it?”

“It does now, you fucking lunatic,” the blond replied without a hitch.

The lord snickered. “It’s too late now.” He grabbed the dagger in both hands and raised it over his head while straddled on top of Draco on the bed.

Harry rushed into the room, throwing himself over Draco. "Stop!"

"You've got to be kidding me." Tom rolled his eyes, sighing. “Get off, Harry. C'mon, let me get on with this, dammit.”

“No, I’m the one you want,” Harry said, looking back at Lord Voldemort. “Let Draco live.”

Voldemort growled. He twisted Harry’s arm behind his back and wrenched it up until the young man dropped to his knees from agony. “You would give your life to save this useless whore? Seriously? After what he did to you?”

Harry’s mop of thick curls fell over his face as he succumbed to Tom's threat of snapping his arm in two. “Ow, alright, stop!”

Tom eased up on the strain, letting Harry relax his rigid muscles. "Can I kill him now?"

Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to hurt him because I care about him. I’ll go with you quietly. Willingly, but only if you let him go, Voldemort.”

“Can’t, he knows my true identity,” Voldemort replied with a smirk. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold and a business to run, a place where they know me as Tom Riddle: Awesome Guy. He’ll tell on me for sure, even if I let _you_ live…What good is immortality if I spend eternity in prison? No, he has to die so that _I_ can live.”

“You wish. Everyone will know who you are very soon,” Draco piped as he groped up to try and help Harry detach himself from the serial killer. “I forgot to mention this, Tom. There’s one more thing I’m certain of tonight. And that is that Hermione-busybody-Granger knows that my middle name is not Abraxas, which certainly prompted her to call the police the moment she left the flat.”

" _NO!"_ Seizing with fury, and before Harry could break away, Tom plunged the knife into Draco’s chest. “ _You’ve ruined everything!”_

Harry heard himself screaming as he threw himself at Tom to stop him from stabbing Draco again. Tom wrestled him down beside the blond with both of his hands wrapped around the young man’s throat. “And you,” he hissed, with saliva leaking off of his bottom lip while cursing at him through clenched teeth as he squeezed the life out of Harry. “Guess I’ll save my speech for Dumbledore when I get him, _you fuck!_ We just don’t have the time to go-”

And before he could ramble on any further, Harry had pulled out the kitchen knife he’d hidden in his briefs and stabbed Tom in the neck with it.

Tom quivered as he ghosted the blade sticking out of him. He took a deep breath, and retrieved the dagger still sticking out of Draco, and slammed it down into Harry’s chest before collapsing on the bed between the two young men.

Draco was gasping for air. “Can’t breathe,” he managed, watching Harry pull the dagger out of himself, stick it in his briefs and stumble over to him. “Hurts. Harry…”

“Don’t panic. I’m gonna get help,” he said to Draco, as he gripped his lover’s wrists in his hands. He pulled him off of the bed and dragged him into the living room, away from Tom, who appeared to be dead or unconscious. He wouldn’t take any chances by leaving Malfoy beside him. Harry knew that the knife he had stabbed him with was not very long; a paring knife, but it was what he found in the kitchen sink and just went with it. He towed Draco to an empty bedroom on the other side of the flat and put both of the man’s hands over his wound. “Hold that to slow the bleeding. Be very quiet, I’ll get the front desk to call an ambulance.”

Draco wept, feeling Harry press his lips to his forehead before draping him with a duvet to cover him up. Both of them were bleeding so badly he wasn’t sure either of them would walk away from this.

Harry locked and closed the door to the bedroom, hoping beyond hope if Tom was still alive he would not seek out his boyfriend. He limped to the front door, unlocked it, swung it open - and suddenly realised that he had to walk through it in order to get help.

“Don’t. Stop.” Tom mewed at him, before bursting into laughter. “That’s what I’ll say I said to you. _“Help, help, help, stop stabbing me!”_ \- because I'm blaming all of this on you, of course. You're the serial killer, wee Potter. You killed Draco before I could stop you. I've got it all planned out. Now close the door so I can finish my destiny, space cadet.”

Harry glared at Tom. The beautiful man was leaning up against the wall with the knife still jutting out of the side of his neck. Harry felt his body go cold while blood drained out of him, saw own his hands trembling and heard his breath catch. Now was not the time to have another bloody panic attack, but it was happening all the same.

“I really wanted to sacrifice you proper. A good sacrifice is important, especially when one is trying to capture lost souls, but no one so far has let me do it.” Tom made his way toward him, disoriented but determined to finish the job, seeing Harry hesitate to move into the hall. “Guess we might have time for that speech after all.”

“Fuck your speech, psycho,” Harry hissed back. He drew in a deep breath and flung himself out into the hallway. Once out, everything changed. His stomach swooped and the walls began to shake. He knew he would pass out if he didn’t focus on what his doctor had taught him. He could hear Tom lumbering toward him. He had to move.

The world pitched and thrummed around him as he limped to the lift. He looked over his shoulder while he tapped the button and saw Tom stumbling toward him. The lift was out of the question. The mere thought of stepping into it caused Harry to retch on the floor. He pushed away from the doors as they opened and stumbled, falling to his knees. Tom was nearly on top of him. He heaved in a breath, stood back up and ran through the hallway toward the stairwell but collapsed in front of the door as his legs gave out. He rolled onto his side, watching Tom tower over him and drop to his knees beside him.

“A valiant effort, pretty boy.” Tom smeared the blood leaking out of his mouth across his cheek and anointed Harry’s forehead with it. “You're a fighter, the bravest I've encountered. But I'm going to tell the world you were a massive pussy because that's who I am. That's what I do. Hope you don't mind, love."

"I don't care," Harry replied. He clutched his chest to ease the pain and focused on Tom's handsome face, invisioning the mask he normally wore in his nightmares. His breathing slowed, his mind centred.

Voldemort's wicked smirk faded away. His doll eyes began to fill with tears. "This is it, Harry. This is the last time we'll be together. Our final dance.”

Harry bared his teeth. “Yeah, let's end this once and for all.”

“We'll seal it with a kiss. Come here, love.” The tall man pulled Harry into his embrace, tipping his head back over his arm as they kissed one last time. He pulled the knife out of his neck, raised it up over his head…but it slipped from his fingers and fell useless beside him.

A sense of calm swept over Harry. He looked up at Tom, who’s eyes grew wide with disbelief as he touched the handle of a knife that Harry had just thrust into his stomach; the serial killer’s own dagger. " _No..."_

Lord Voldemort was not immortal. He could no longer hide behind a mask. He was just a man. And even if he were someone special, he still bled just like everyone else. Harry got up on his knees to face his nightmare one last time. “I thought I killed you before. I won't make that mistake again.” He clenched his teeth as he swatted Tom’s hand away to grip the hilt of the dagger. He leaned in close, with his lips to Voldemort’s ear. “Do us all a favour - Stay dead this time,” he whispered, and dragged the blade across the man’s stomach to eviscerate him.

The spark of life extinguished in Lord Voldemort’s eyes, still looking at Harry in shock. He crumbled against him in the throes of death, feeling his life force drain from him through the wound.

Harry felt a prickle of happiness and a burst of energy, giving him the strength to shove Riddle off so he could get down those stairs and save Draco’s life if he wasn’t dead already.

* * *

An elderly woman sitting behind the front desk looked up as Harry stumbled out of the stairwell. Having already heard an earful from a frizzy-haired girl and her ginger-haired companion about violence inside the building, Harry’s horrific state of being merely added to her shock. He was covered in blood, wearing only his once-really-cute pair of undies, and he was holding a large knife in his hand.

“I need an ambulance and the police right away. Draco’s dying up in the penthouse,” he said in a small voice.

The woman gaped back at him, stunned by his ghastly appearance.

“Please!” he shouted, letting the knife drop from his hand.

At that moment several police officers rushed into the building.

Harry squinted through his poor blurry vision at them. “Oh yeah, they’re already here.” He looked back at the desk clerk. “Brilliant.” He then promptly fainted.

* * *

**Three months later…**

 “How are you feeling, my boy?”

“I feel good. I’m doing alright.”

“You’ve taken a bold step. I cannot detect any physical signs of panic by looking at you. How are you feeling up here?” Albus Dumbledore tapped his temple before leaning on his desk.

“I’m okay. It was scary driving here but I feel okay right now.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand.

“You should also tell him how you’ve stopped doing any sort of drugs…well, except pot,” Draco encouraged him.

Dumbledore’s twinkling-blue eyes moved from the one young man to his patient. “Is that so?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, looking down at Draco’s hand trapped in his. “Sort of. I’m trying it. I can’t spend the rest of my life living in fear.”

“And the two of you? How is your relationship holding up?”

Sitting forward, Draco said, “We’re doing well,” while Harry hunched back in his chair and mumbled, “I dunno, we’ll see what happens,” at the exact same moment. Harry cringed and looked away when Draco gaped at him. “It’s only been three months, mate.” He glanced back to Dumbledore. “We’re trying to start over.”

“Well, that’s all you can do.” Albus looked between the two young men, noting their body language toward the other. Harry was living with the Dursleys again during his recovery while Draco remained inside the flat. “You’ve only been with each other up to this point, maybe a-”

“That’s not actually true, though, is it?” Harry interrupted him. “He was also sleeping with a serial killer for a solid year. Worked with him every day. Wouldn’t you consider that to be another relationship?”

“You slept with him too, hypocrite.”

“Gentlemen…” Albus looked down the length of his nose to observe the men’s hands still clasped together. While their relationship was so vulnerable at this point and may very well end rather than continue, it was clear that they were connected in a way he hadn’t thought about. He watched Draco sigh with disappointment and look away. Saw Harry roll his eyes and crinkle his nose. Yet their fingers remained interlocked. “We’ll work together on this in the weeks to come. There’s a lot of healing that needs to happen. It takes time to build that trust up, it isn’t something you can buy or will.”

Harry gave the man a simple nod in agreement. “Well, I’m supposed to be some sort of peak human according to Voldemort, you’d think I could heal mentally as fast as I have physically.” He giggled and gave Draco’s hand a squeeze. “I mean, I actually felt something inside of me the moment Voldemort died. I know it was probably psychosomatic. It had to be, right?”

“On that note…” Draco eased back in his seat. “You have to wonder if all that nonsense Lord Voldemort was blabbering about might have a ring of truth in it. I mean, hell, Harry pulled the dagger sticking out of his own chest, dragged me to a safe place, battled his demons with agoraphobia and left the flat so he could get help, and took on the killer again - and won.” Draco made a fist and flicked his hand open beside his head. “Mind blowing.”

“And, he said you were one, too,” Harry added, staring at his elderly doctor. “Did you know him? Tom Riddle?”

“A long time ago, sixty or so years back. He was…not a person I wanted to acquaint myself with,” Dumbledore replied, looking grim.

“Sixty?” both Harry and Draco exclaimed as one. “That’s impossible, he was forty-five, fifty years old tops.”

“I beg your pardon,” Dumbledore said, correcting himself. He again tapped his temple with a slender finger. “I may have mixed him up with someone else. You are correct, he was much younger than that. A patient of mine for a time. As I said, I did not acquaint myself with him. We did not part on good terms.”

Draco relaxed, but Harry was thinking, most likely filing the things Dumbledore said in his vault.

Dumbledore shook his head. “I see what you’re doing, Harry, but it’s not necessary and it will only trouble you if you dwell on it. I assure you I honestly make a mistake there. I’m not lying, not covering anything up. I’m an old man with an old mind who has seen thousands of patients over the last sixty or so years. No one is immortal. What you felt when you killed him was most likely a great relief, a burst of euphoric adrenaline. I promise you, my boy. I’m almost certain he attended school with your parents and that’s verifiable.”

Draco watched his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye.

Harry sat quietly for a moment. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Your absolutely sure? What about what Harry survived?” Draco asked politely, hoping this answer would put Harry’s mind to ease once and for all. “If you can explain that so he understands I would greatly appreciate it.”

Dumbledore smiled as he rested his chin on his fists. The two young men had recovered well since the attack. Harry had found a strength within him to indeed conquer many of his fears, as well as his dependence to drugs that allowed him to escape his tragic past. “Might I remind you, Draco, that you too survived the attack. It’s really simple: the severity of your wounds despite how much you bled, and also besides perhaps Mr Riddle’s final wound, is that they were not life-threatening. He punctured your lung. He missed any vital part of Harry.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “So he’s not coming back this time. He can’t come back ever again, right?” He needed to hear the doctor say it, to promise him Tom Riddle was never going to haunt his conscious life ever again.

“Harry, I can say with the utmost of sincerity that Lord Voldemort can never come back. He was pronounced dead at the scene, they pumped his corpse full of embalming fluid and buried him in the Little Hangelton cemetery next to his father.” The man checked his watch. “Well, our time is up for now. I’m very proud of both of you for venturing out to see me in such a short amount of time after the assault. Harry, I have no doubts to your full recovery happening within the year.” He shook their hands and ushered them out of the office. __

* * *

“What a waste of chemicals if you ask me,” Draco said, as he opened the car door for Harry. “No one showed at his funeral, not a single friend, relative or co-worker. Pathetic. Should have just cremated him, save the space for someone else.” He waited for Harry to climb in, but that didn’t happen. “What’s wrong?”

“I know he’s dead,” Harry said. He was staring at the door leading to Dr Dumbledore’s office. “I know he’s not coming back either. What bothers me is that thing Dumbledore said, about his age…”

Draco planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “We’ll go verify whether he went to school with your folks, hon. We’ll go right now.”

Harry dropped into his seat. He gave Draco a smile. “Thanks, love.”

Draco got in the auto and brought the engine roaring to life. “Hey,” he said softly as he patted Harry’s knee. “If it’s true, you wanna spend the night with me tonight?”

Harry stopped in mid-clink of his safety belt. After a moment of thought on the matter, knowing for sure that Lord Voldemort was not some sort of immortal creature, that the terrible things he had done to Draco and he inside that flat would never happen again gave him a jolt of excitement. “Hell yes,” he replied through a sporting grin. “Let’s go verify this shit so we can get home.”

Draco sported his own grin as he threw the gear stick in reverse. “Absolutely.”

They drove off to check out the records. Whether they stayed together or went their separate ways in the future was irrelevant at that point, now was the time to live. Harry was finally free, and there was a whole wide world out there waiting to be discovered by the young man who was no longer trapped in fear in his own mind.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this please give me kudos !


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